My Guardian Dear
by IXAMXDECADENCE
Summary: Sam is not quite human - Mercedes is.  Shenanigans ensue
1. Chapter 1

My Guardian Dear

Mercedes Jones smelt like sin. Sam watched her as she as she laughed with Tina, tossing her head back, glossy curls bouncing and the soft brown stretch of neck bared to his hungry gaze. _Fuck he was in trouble._

Everything had been running according to schedule when he and his family moved to Ohio. He'd been playing the part of the popularity obsessed teenage boy to a hilt and the puzzle pieces were just falling into place as they should. And then his father had been wounded in what should have been a routine exorcism and then they found out that there was, in fact, nothing routine at all about the demon spawn wreaking havoc in the small town. They had been on high alert every since and soon they might have to seek reinforcements because the coming battle was clearly beyond just their capabilities.

And then Mercedes Jones had appeared at their motel room one rainy morning bearing a basket full of warm lunch and a suitcase full of clothes and curled the warmth of her spirit hot and tight right through his core.

Sam couldn't afford to be feeling..._this_. There was no time for him to be losing his grip like this – there was no time for the breathless heat that sat coiled in his belly or the clutching ache of a cock that wouldn't go soft. _Gods look at her!_

She was singing now, her big, brown eyes gazing right into his, sweetness curving the plush gleam of her lips and her big, round body twisting and rolling in a way that made him nearly lightheaded with want. He was desperate to lick her, bite at her, lose himself in the sinfully delicious yield of her body. As her song came to an end and she just stood there beaming love at him Sam realised, with a faint, futile flaring of dread, that she was his Bonded. That somehow, after millennia of hiding, he had just lost his heart to a precious, tender, mortal human being.


	2. Chapter 2

"Samuel Evans what on earth do you think you're doing?" squawked Mercedes as Sam upturned an entire bucket of sudsy water on her head. She shrieked as the boy began to chase her, cackling with evil glee. Mercedes ran, laughing and stumbling in the wet grass.

After Glee club yesterday Sam had asked Mercedes to join him and his family for lunch on Saturday. "I can't take you on proper dates yet - "

"Sam," she'd begun, trying to silence him.

"No – no let me finish. I know you don't care about _things_ but things have meaning and I want to be able to give you things and take you out and show you off to everybody," he insisted passionately, lifting her hands to his lips and brushing her knuckles with kisses. "But for now, even though I'm broke, I just want you to get to know my family and I want to spend as much time as I can getting to know you."

He met her eyes then, his a drowning green beneath the gold of his hair, and her breath had caught helplessly in her throat because he was just so beautiful. "So please, Miz Mercy Jones, join my family and I for lunch tomorrow?"

And she'd nodded, body flooding helplessly with delight and everything she was feeling shining from her eyes. He wanted her – this amazing, wonderful being wanted _her_ and it was glorious.

Mercedes had gotten to know Sam's family over the weeks as she had regularly helped him to babysit his brother and sister. She had organised boxes and packed shelves when the little family moved out of the motel and into Sam's uncle's house and his parents already treated her with familiar warmth. This, however, had been the first time she visited them as his girlfriend and they had been so welcoming, gently teasing the two of them as they bashfully ate their meal. Then Sam's Dad had asked him to wash the truck and that suggestion had turned into the water fight currently taking place.

"Stacy help!" Mercedes yelled and watched with mirth pouring right from the depths of her as Sam's little sister launched herself at her brother and managed to trip him. He went down hard, landing with a squelch in the wet grass lining the driveway, still howling with laughter.

"Sam you are so going to get it now!" Mercedes shouted, leaping at the prone boy. She straddled his hips, fire in her eyes and the splashing hosepipe in her hand, and pointed the warm, glittering spill of water right into his face. Stacy squealed gleefully and proceeded to rub mud into the wet, golden strands of Sam's hair while Mercedes ruthlessly tried to drown him with the hose.

"You're both so dead!" he roared, still snorting helplessly and trying to hold the raging girls at bay. Stacy got while the getting was good and ran back to the house, shrieking with joy and calling for her brother, while Sam arched his hips and flipped Mercedes over, sprawling thoughtlessly between her thighs, one arm braced beside her neck and the other cradling the back of her head.

The moment changed suddenly, got heavy as they met each other's smiling eyes, both still gasping with laughter. Sunlight and heat hazed the taut air between the two of them and Sam's heart lodged thick and pounding in his throat. He could see the thrum of a pulse at her clavicle, the skin there moving, fluttering with the beat of Mercedes's blood, and the sudden urge to press the slick heat of his tongue to that sweet, sweet skin sent want piercing right through the core of him to clench, hot and aching, in his balls.

"Sam," she whispered, reaching one muddy hand to brush gently across his cheek. The touch seared him and he shut his eyes briefly, just for a moment, in an attempt to re-gather his swiftly unravelling control. "Sammy?"

"Jesus Mercy I just need a minute," he rasped, eyes on her face again. He watched as she swallowed, her eyes wide.

"I don't - "

Sam dropped his forehead to hers, rubbing his nose over the curve of her cheeks and forehead, at the mad pulse at her throat, just breathing her in. Her breath was coming in soft, hard pants as she stared up at him, their eyes glued together. She lifted her hand and trailed her fingers under the wet material of his T, running them over the ridges of his belly. Sam's brain lost its battle with his body and he dropped his hips down into the hot dip at the meeting of her thighs and rolled the thick, hard length of himself hard against her. She whimpered and arched, both hands clutching at his neck and shoulder, disbelief in her eyes.

"Sam!" she gasped, almost flinching with pleasure as he rolled into her again, his arm hooked around her waist and her sweet, fat thighs crushing high around his hips.

"_Mercy_," he groaned, face constricted with a pleasure that simply addled his senses. He wanted to kiss her so badly – so fucking badly – and right now he couldn't remember why he shouldn't. Just as his lips drifted over the fullness of hers and his tongue darted out to tease at the tender flesh, his father's voice ripped through him, jerking him back from the brink.

"Samuel!"

Relief and rage screamed through him in equal measure as he forced his body away from the irresistible give of her roundness. His father was standing a fair distance away from the two of them, face stern. His eyes pierced Sam and the boy drew a shaky breath because he knew that Jericho Evans saw everything Sam had been desperately trying to deny, to ignore.

"I hear you Dad," he finally managed to say, looking down at Mercy's mortified face. He heard his father turn back and into the house.

"Oh my god I'm never going to look at your father again," Mercedes moaned, trying to curl away from Sam. Sam huffed a laugh and dropped to the side of her, spooning her in the large, muddy smear they had made in the grass, one of his forearms around her waist and pulling her to lie flush against him. Her ass rode his dick like the wickedest, sweetest torture but he shoved the sensations down, down and away. He had to hold her, needed the heaviness of her in his arms. He placed a kiss at the back of her ear and felt her shudder, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles on her tummy.

"He understands," he murmured into her ear. "You ready to go back inside to get washed up?"

She turned her head and then the rest of her body to face him. "No!" she giggled. Sam joined her laughter and laid a kiss on her forehead, losing himself again. Their legs tangled and he pushed his thigh between hers. She was golden. Pure, golden light and his. All his.

"You're mine," he whispered, the burning urgency of arousal and possession suddenly back again – his father's censure be damned. She blinked in surprise at him, drawn once more into the sticky pull of his want. Trying to resist her was like saying no to food after days of hunger, like turning away from water after months of thirst. He couldn't do it.

Just then Stevie landed on his back with a savage yell, skinny arms wrapped around Sam's neck, pulling him away from the lure of Mercedes. The Bond that had been determinedly weaving them together ached like a torn wound as he lost contact with her skin but he knew it was for the best. He could not Bond to a human – it would kill her. She lay in the grass, looking at him with a kind of pain on her face, her hand clutching at her heart. Bewildered at the drenching sense of loss that crashed over her as he rose away from her, Stevie still clinging determinedly to his back. He held a hand out to her and his mind took him back to that fateful moment at prom when he had asked her to dance. "Let's go get cleaned up and then I'll do my Yoda impressions for you," he said, grinning crookedly down at her. A smile edged its way back onto her lips and she reached for his hand and let him pull her to her feet.


	3. Chapter 3

She stood in the shower watching mud and grass swirl from her hair, from her arms and legs and down into the drain. The water felt amazing, hot and hard, beating at her shoulders. She reached a tentative hand up and cupped her right breast, moaning softly at the heavily aroused orb throbbed, the nipple so hard it hurt. She was wet, even after washing herself she was wet. She reached a finger down her body and rubbed a circle over the swollen throb of her clitoris. Her entire body shuddered, womb clenching, goose bumps rising all over her streaming skin. _Samuel Evans was going to be the death of her. _

Taking her leave of his family had been _so embarrassing_. Her whole body just got hot at the memory of his Dad having to warn them off of each other. Sam's mother had laughingly embraced her, placing a warm kiss on Mercedes's forehead, right where Sam had placed his, while Mr Evans had taken her filthy little paw and placed a gentlemanly kiss on the only patch of clean skin available. On anybody else that move would have creeped her out forever but Sam's Dad pulled it off with a charm and sincerity that seemed to come so effortlessly to the man. Both his parents had stood in the doorway as he bid her goodnight, his face red but his eyes that determined, intense green that melted her heart right into the crotch of her panties.

"I was thinking we could maybe do a Lord of the Rings marathon tomorrow?" Mercedes said, clutching the edges of her shawl together against the still chilly spring evening. Sam took the hoody he was wearing off, the material pulling his undershirt up to reveal the tempting stretch of rock hard abs and a peak of dusky nipple. Her mouth went desert dry in moments.

"Here," he said, holding the jacket over her head, waiting to put it on her. She removed the shawl, placing it on the hood of her car, lifted her arms and let him dress her in the warmth of the hoody. As her head disappeared into the hot, Sam-scented darkness, she could swear her heart reached for his – yearning through muscle, blood and bone.

"And you call me a dork?" he teased.

She shoved him in the chest, laughing. "Don't start boy – I will end you."

He fell silent again, just watching her. "That would be awesome. The Lord of the Rings, not the ending," he rasped, voice all deep, dark gravel and pulled her into his arms. She was already addicted to his hugs. "I'll be at your house at noon tomorrow."

"I'll make mac and cheese," she snuffled against his chest, contentment rising in her like a wave.

"Egg-cellent," he hissed in his best Mr Burns impression. Mercy cracked up, arms tightening around him.

"Samuel." His father said again and Sam sighed deeply, rolling his eyes just a little. Mercedes giggled.

"Night Mercy," he said, taking a reluctant step away from her. When his arms released her it felt a million kinds of wrong. She shook herself free of the irrational ache and folded her arms, hands rubbing at the soft clasp of his hoody.

"Goodnight Sam-I-Am," she whispered and climbed into her car. As she pulled out of their driveway she watched him shrinking in the rear view mirror. She didn't want to go but the Sammy-sunlight shining out of every one of pores would keep her going till tomorrow. She sang the whole way home, loudly and with relish.

She'd arrived home to a dark house. Her mom was away at a medical conference and had reluctantly left Mercedes alone over the weekend. The woman had wanted to get her a babysitter. Mercedes laughed at the memory. Seventeen and her mom wanted to get her a babysitter – Lord could that woman could worry! She stepped from the shower and wrapped the terry cloth robe around herself, looking forward to slathering her now beautifully clean skin in Shea butter. Brittany Spear's Toxic was on the iPod and she bopped her booty to the sound, singing softly under her breath as she headed for the mirror to brush her teeth. That's when she saw..._it_ in the mirror.

It looked human but not quite. She knew it couldn't be human because it was wearing her Daddy's face, her Daddy's body. _Her Daddy_. He had passed four years ago and his loving visage was forever ingrained in her mind. But now this thing stood behind her, leering with too sharp teeth, and her beloved father's face. The fear came like an icy spill across her whole body but it was swiftly chased out by the rage. She turned from the mirror and stared at it, eyes wide and heart pounding.

"Hello Mercy," it sneered, clicking the long, curving talons on its fingers as it ambled towards her. "I'm home."

"What are you?" Her voice barely left her throat, panic like a fist at her gullet.

"It's me baby – I'm your Papa. Didn't your new boy Sam tell you about me – about us?"

The thing laughed, clicking those talons again and edging closer as it spoke.

"Sam? What on earth would he know about what you are?" Her mind was racing, a million red misted thoughts shrieking around her brain. What could Sam have to do with this? Why would he know about this?

Mercedes couldn't believe what was happening – that she was standing in her bathroom having a conversation with a monster – with a thing risen from the depths of hell. She watched, her mind still struggling to believe that this was indeed reality, as it paused and cocked its head to the side. It moved oddly, like something broken, with joints too big for smooth motion.

"Sammy hasn't told you? Why hasn't he told you?"

The thing laid its claw against the wall, clicking those long, razor sharp digits against the creamy tile. Mercedes stared at them, watching the way the light shone dully on the edges. It was going to kill her with those things – she knew it down to the marrow of her bones.

"But...that means..."

To Mercedes's horror the thing flicked out a long, forked tongue, scenting the air around her. It's eyes grew wide and then it laughed. "The foolish boy has not taken you yet. You are unclaimed, untouched. _Oh this is going to be all the sweeter_," it crooned, lurching with renewed glee towards her.

"_Move bitch move,"_ she hissed at herself as the thing crept ever closer, the terror of it only increasing as it came inevitably closer and she could see even more all the ways it was _not_ like her father.

"I'm not dying here today," she whispered, throat tight, tears of fear welling at her eyes.

It stopped its approach, looking almost shocked. "Ofcourse not dear heart!" it exclaimed, amused. "You're going to live for a very, very long time before we're done with you." And those words clutched dread at her insides greater than what she had felt even at first sight of the creature.

"Think Mercy, think," she sobbed silently to herself, edging away from its putrid proximity. Out the corner of her eye she caught the reflection of the two of them steadily edging around each other. And then it came to her.

She could use the mirror to hit at it, to buy her some time so that she could get away. Her mind went, randomly, to the memory of the argument she and her mom had had about the mirror when they first brought it home. "There are a million mirrors in this house already child – why do you want another one?" her mother had grumbled as Mercedes carried her new acquisition triumphantly up the stairs.

"Cos Mama, how'm I supposed to brush my teeth if I can't see myself?"

Her mom had laughed then and called up at her, "Well then you can hang it up too!"

"Sure thing," she'd shouted cheerfully back. But she'd never hung the mirror up. She'd left it, for six months, propped against the bathroom window and perfectly positioned for her tooth brushing and primping every morning. She could use it now, she could grab it and swing it at the creature.

_Oh Jesus she could smell it, smell the sulphur and deadness coming off of its skin_.

"_Do it Mercy. Do it!"_ she hissed at herself but her limbs were heavy, like her blood had been replaced with ice. Grabbing the mirror meant turning away from it, meant moving her eyes from it for even a second and she just didn't know if she could do that.

With a sensation like tearing muscle Mercedes wrenched her body away from the approaching horror, grabbed the mirror mounted on the bathroom counter, and swung it at the things head with every particle of strength she had in her terrified body. The sound of the mirror shattering with a meaty thud against the things flesh swelled bile into her throat and as it screamed, tearing at the shards jutting from its eye, she ran for the bathroom door, one jagged piece of glass clutched tight in her fist. Her feet skid on water and glass, the glittering pieces cutting deep, but she didn't pause as she dashed down the stairs, voiceless in her terror.

The thing's talons tore into her back. She felt the skin split open and blood pour down her back as it roared, enraged, at her_. _Where her flesh gaped it felt like ice-burn, numb and then viciously painful. Mercedes sobbed, turning to face the menace again and slashing at it with the shard of glass she had clasped in her hand, oblivious to the way it lacerated her own flesh. The monster screamed – high and unnatural – and dug its claws into the meat of her arm. She watched as blood poured through the hanging, white bits of terry cloth. She knew that the blood was hers, that this was actually happening to her, but it all felt so far away. When the thing opened its mouth and its gaping maw mauled at the wound the screams finally tore out of her throat and pierced the numb silence of the night.

That's when the wooden front door exploded inwards and Samuel Evans leapt through the opening and right at the monster ripping into Mercedes. She couldn't believe he was there, couldn't understand what she was seeing as he launched himself at the beast and pierced its back with a black blade. It howled, teeth pulling free of her savaged flesh and turned with eyes burning to face him. Sam twisted the blade while driving a fist into the things face – once and then again. Mercy stared at the two wrestling each other before her. She blinked, adrenaline still rushing through her, watching in astonishment as Sam's wings flared above him and the struggling creature.

Sam had wings.

She blinked again, levering herself up the wall and losing purchase as she slid in her own blood.

Yes, those were _definitely_ wings.

They were enormous. Huge, glossy, feathered things, so black they gleamed green and blue in the light. She shook her head and turned away from him, reaching for the bloodied piece of glass. She had to help him – had to help Sam. Winged Sam. _Jesus wings?_ But Sammy all the same. If that thing got free she was dead.

Just then it pulled loose of Sam's grasp and came at her again, mouth dripping red from where it had chewed at her. Mercedes screamed, falling backwards and away from its clutching grasp. Sam flew at it – those wings sweeping up and then down once – and then he was on its back, his ichor crusted hand clutched just beneath its gnashing maw and with a vicious swipe and jerk he tore the creatures head from its body. It fell with a wet thump and black ichor, stinking and hot, geysered from the severed neck.

Mercedes stared at it – disbelief swamping her again. It's mouth was still snapping, sharp and threatening. _It wasn't dead._ Moving like lightening Sam lifted his blade and pierced the thing through the top of its head, pinning it to the floor...Finally it was still.

Sam was panting as he jerked the blade free, wiped it of the stinking goo, and neatly sheathed it behind his back. Then he was crouching before her, blocking her sight of the spreading gore. His hands cupped her face, eyes red rimmed and so wide with fear. "Mercy," he whispered, breath hot where his lips roamed her face, those wings closing tight around them, sparking something where they touched her. "Sam," she sobbed, blackness creeping at the edges of her vision. She tried to raise her arms to wind around his neck but only one moved, the other lay bleeding and broken against her body.

"It's ok Mercy – I've got you baby," he said and, tucking her tight against his body with an arm beneath her knees and the other at her back, he rose and started for the door. The wings – _Jesus actual wings?_ – mantled behind him and then one of them furled forward to wrap around her body. It was warm and heavy and smelt of Sam, just like his hoody did, but more.

Her head lolled against his shoulder, exhaustion tugging at the edges of her consciousness. His ear was right there, covered by blood stained strands of hair. "You're carrying me," she suddenly giggled softly. Sam looked at her in astonishment and something tender and little broken crooked his lips.

"Yes I am baby."

Mercedes tucked her head tight into the hollow where shoulder met neck, feeling the muscles there moving with the weight of the ebony wings. "Sammy why haven't I fainted yet?" she whispered against the sweat-damp column of his throat. She was so tired but her brain wouldn't shut off, her heat still racing.

He burst through a door into light. They were somewhere warm now, out of the darkness. She heard other voices, other people around them. _Please God not more monsters!_ A sob escaped her throat.

"Shhhh Mercy. Sleep baby, I've got you now." And like falling into sweet, clear water on a blistering summer day Mercedes slept.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam hated watching her drive away. Everything in him was roaring at him to go with her, to go after her, but he couldn't because even a second more in her presence tonight meant him sealing the Bond.

"Sam." Jericho's voice was insistent. He wouldn't be denied.

Sam sighed and turned to face the older Guardians. They stood silhouetted against the light spilling out the door, onto the stoep and down the stairs. The Evans elders were not really his parents - but they were his family. Guardians moved in family units – loving circles that trained and fought and laughed and died together. He had been with Jericho and Annabelle for two centuries now. Stevie and Stacy had, miraculously, been born of their Bond and Sam was as father and brother to the twins.

"I know Jericho," he groaned running his fingers through his hair, trying to shake the emotion of the day off his shoulders. _MercyMercyMercy. _The dogged single track his brain and body insisted on following was exhausting. He hurt the further away she got.

"Come in boys – let's get some coffee," came Anna's voice, her fingers winding around Jericho's and tugging him into the warm yellow light. Sam reluctantly followed them, rubbing at the knots if tension in his neck and at the fierce ache in his chest where Mercedes and their fledgling Bond now lived.

Bronson Daniels, who was posing as the benevolent uncle to the Evans family, was brewing a pot of coffee, silver canister bubbling on the stove. Bronson was also an elder, called in from the Tennessee Host to strengthen the veil of protection in Ohio and to lift some of the burden of Guardianship from Sam and Annabelle's shoulders since Jericho was still badly wounded.

Sam settled himself into one of the wooden kitchen chairs, gratefully taking the steaming mug of coffee Bronson slid across the table to him. The first sip washed the taste of her from his mouth and he had to swallow the sound of irrational regret that came as the coffee swept away Mercedes.

"You've got it bad boy," Bronson husked, his voice smoker-hoarse and silver grey hair swept back from a craggy face.

Sam snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

"What you don't know Samuel is that Bonding with a mortal is taboo because - "

"They cannot survive the bond," Sam finished for Jericho. "I know that dammit!"

Silence settled on the kitchen as his rage thrummed through the air, almost visible in its intensity.

Jericho met his frustrated gaze calmly, sternly. "Sam you knew what you felt for her was different. That what you feel for her is not easy, it's not disposable. And yet you pursued her. You let her in and invited her into our circle. _Why_ when you know that you risk her life every day the Bond digs deeper?"

The words were like a bullwhip, tearing at his skin, accusation in every syllable. Sam was flooded with guilt and sudden, breathless rage. "_Because she's mine!_" he whispered harshly, trembling with barely restrained fury. The Bond recognised the censure in Jericho's voice, recognised his older, more potent power, and like a cornered animal it rose in defensive anger, coiling Sam's muscles tighter and tighter.

"Jericho," Anna cautioned as the air around Sam began to ripple, reality bending slightly as he barely held on to his human form. She and Jericho exchanged a glance and Anna rose from her seat at her Bonded's side and made her way to Sam. Her hand settled on his shoulder, soothing the hard ridges. "We know what it is to resist the urging of the Bond Sam. We know the size of the hurt we are asking you to do yourself. But we also know that your love for this mortal will not let you see any harm come to her – even from yourself."

Her gentleness crushed his anger and despair began to settle into his insides. The grain on the dark wooden table glowed a soft mahogany in the light and he trailed his trembling fingers through the damp ring it left on surface. He took several deep breaths, ignoring the ache beginning at his temples. "I would never hurt her."

He heard Anna's small sigh of relief and smiled bitterly. "But I also will not survive without her." He looked up from where he'd been staring at the scarred tabletop to meet Jericho's confused eyes. "The Bond – the Bond is fully formed on my side. It's bleeding my life force. I can feel myself diminishing."

"Sam!" gasped Anna, gripping his chin and turning his face up to hers. "Sam why did you let this happen?"

Anna's eyes were wide, tears already welling in the blue depths as she stared at him in horror. She and Jericho had been guides and family to him for so long and the betrayed hurt on her face was almost too much to look at. He had fallen so hard for Mercedes. Had known, felt it, when he crossed the point of no return, but nothing in the world felt as good as cleaving to her flesh did. Nothing – not his quest or his destiny or the love of his family.

"Gods dammit you young idiot!" barked Jericho, slamming his fist against the tabletop. The man was furious, leaping from his chair and pacing the kitchen, disbelief and the dawning of grief on his face.

"I couldn't resist her. You may as well have asked me to stop breathing." The words fell heavy and cold in the links between them, incredulity evident in Anna and Jericho's faces.

"You have cut your own strand with this Samael. You have ended yourself," Anna said, voice broken.

"No he hasn't – not necessarily."

Bronson's voice surprised them all. Sam had nearly forgotten he sat there with them, lost in the grief, anger and love swirling through him.

"Our legends tell of a mortal who survived the Bonding with a Guardian."

"Bronson that is mere myth – a fairytale so ancient that even we dismiss it for the fabrication that it is," said Anna, lifting her face from where it had been buried in Sam's hair.

Bronson shook his head, silver hair sliding loose of the black knot at his nape. "No it is not. It is fact."

A nerve ticked in Jericho's jaw and he turned angrily on the older man. "I know what you are trying to do Bronson but the boy does not need stories right now – we need to find a way to reverse the Bond."

Bronson laughed. "There is no reversing the Bond Jericho – you know this. And I am speaking true. I know for a fact that there has been in our history the Bonding of mortal and Guardian and I know this because the Guardian that fell was my mother."

That announcement sent a silent shockwave through the room. Bronson rose, tall and wiry, skin tanned to dark leather, and moved towards Sam. He was a living legend. Living legends were fairly common among the Guardians because, simply put, they lived so damn long but Bronson and his sires were the stuff of even the myths of the Guardians.

"You can Bond with a mortal son but her love for you must be as true as yours is for her otherwise she will fall into madness and be lost to you forever."

He sighed and hoisted himself onto the table, curving a calloused palm around Sam's neck. Power, cool and soothing, spilled through Sam from Bronson's touch, slowing the draining ache of the unsealed Bond, easing his mind.

"Guardians do not fall in love with mortals Samael because our sole purpose, our very reason for existence, is their protection. We love them as a sheppard loves his flock and that is written into the fibre of our souls to save us from the pain of loving them as more. Their existence is fleeting, their hearts are fickle and their nature untrue. That is their beauty – their fragility and imperfection make them precious. But it means dear boy that to love a mortal is to risk the loss of your own life and there are so few of us left Samael, so few."

Sam swallowed, the motion hurting and dry, a lump of pain lodged in his chest. Every word Bronson uttered was true and Sam knew that. But it was too late to draw back from the fire that was Mercedes Jones now. She owned his soul and he would never take it back again. He didn't want to.

Bronson smiled, lips curling and his face creasing into a million wrinkles. "But I see that you have fallen and fallen hard. Love her Samael and if you believe her heart to be true to only yours Bond yourself to her. That is the only way you will survive your foolish youth."

Sam couldn't help a smile – the impish boy he played at being in the daylight peeking out suddenly from behind the ancient eyes of the Guardian. "Bronson I'm over 2000 years old – I'm pretty sure I left my youth behind in the dust."

The elder grunted and patted his cheek a little harder than was absolutely necessary. "Children these days," he grumbled fondly and then rose again, walking leisurely towards the stairs leading to the den in the basement. "Jericho, Anna, leave the boy be. There is no way back – you both know this very well. There never has been and never will be a way back. So let's have some of that cake you baked earlier Anna. I'm jonesing for some chocolate."

Sam started laughing first, staring after the man in astonishment. Jericho and Anna joined in. Jericho moved towards his Bonded and Sam, reaching for their hands. Anna reached down for Sam's giant paw and then grasped his and Jericho's to her breast, tears tracking unheeded down her face.

"Anna," Sam begun but she shook her head at him and kissed his hand, still smiling. Jericho pulled Sam into a one armed hug, closing the circle.

"I just want to pray with my boys," she said and bowing her head as she began the venerated Incantation of Light.

That's when fear and horror jerked Sam's head violently back from his prayers and ripped his wings from his back with a sound like thunder roaring.

"Mercedes!" he growled before, with a powerful beat of the feathered limbs, he flew into the night and towards where his Bonded was fighting for her life.


	5. Chapter 5

"Put her down Sam! Samael put her down!" cried Anna, clearing the table of the remains of coffee and cake. The scene was an incongruous juxtaposition of gore and domestic normalcy, the smell of blood and home churning in Sam's nostrils.

She was so small in his arms – a soft, bleeding bundle that was his whole world. The skriiakae had bitten her arm down to the bone and taken chunks of the muscle. Her shoulder was dislocated and her clavicles were broken. It had nearly taken the entire limb. Sam wanted to kill it again – slower this time.

He settled her on the kitchen table, trying to ignore the way his entire torso was covered in the sticky red of her blood. He had smothered her in slumber, dulling the pain and horror for the moment, but she still whimpered when his skin parted from hers. Sam unwrapped what was left of the robe, slicing swiftly at the arm and removing the tattered remnants as gently as he could.

"Anna I need the Essence of Suk – quickly! Jericho we need to reattach the arm before we lose any more time. The skriiakae – it bit deep."

Jericho nodded, ruthlessly gathering Mercedes's poor, savaged arm and jerking the shoulder back into the socket. Sweat was pouring into Sam's eyes, his hands trembling as they covered the torn skin and he pushed the core of his power out of himself and into the terrible wound. Mercedes gasped, high and breathless, as if she was drowning in the light pouring into her.

Anna had returned, was stood at the head of the table, the essence like iridescent pollen residue on her hands. She gently laid them on the already putrefying skin on Mercy's back and sang in a steady monotone while the pollen sank into the flesh and black, stinking ooze, similar to what the monster had bled, seeped out of the wounds in long, viscous strands.

The brutalised skin began to knit together, sealing seamlessly in the wake of the spill of dark golden light. Sam could feel her coming back up from the clutches of sleep. She glowed, like the crimson of a summer sunset, and the deep, hot thrum of her reached for him, reached for the Bond, and Sam felt himself helplessly reaching back.

"Sammy," she beamed, curling into him, fingers winding into his hair. "Boy what took you so long?"

And then she was snatched away from him, the Bond thwarted yet again, and Sam snapped back to the blood stained kitchen to find Bronson perched above him, his forearm a steel band over Sam's throat, holding him still, holding him down.

"Sam!" Mercedes sobbed, wide awake now and terrified in Jericho's arms.

"Let me go!" he roared, fighting Bronson with mindless rage.

"Easy Samael. Easy," Bronson murmured as Sam strained to get free.

"Dammit Bronson let me go!"

"I'll let you go boy just calm down. You're spilling power all over the place and if you touch her like this you will fasten the Bond. You don't want that – not this way."

Sam couldn't deny the truth of that, his head thumping to the floor. Slowly he drew back the ripples of his power, letting the mist of red-gold fade from his gaze and then urging the wings away, silencing the Guardian and bringing his humanity to the fore.

Bronson's hold eased and Sam was up like a shot. Jericho relinquished Mercedes into his embrace and the weight of her in his arms settled the churn in his gut. Her arms went around his neck, bare breasts crushed to his chest and the smell of her rising to fill his head. She felt like home.

"Sammy," she said, memory returning with fear following swiftly on its heels. "What the fuck is going on?"


	6. Chapter 6

Mercedes was pissed. Oh my god so fucking pissed. Samuel Evans had lied to her – looked her in the eyes and pretended to be an entire being that he simply wasn't! She was standing in front of him where he sat looking remorseful in the massive armchair, her arms folded and fury blazing from her eyes and the set of her lips.

They were in his room, the one she had just helped him move into, and in light of what he had just told her the Avatar posters and Star Wars figurines just seemed to mock her.

"You couldn't warn me Sam? Couldn't warn us that there are literally monsters crawling through this town? That you're all winged and stuff!" She flailed her arms wildly at him, the gesture encompassing the generally spectacular weird of the situation.

"Our code does not allow - "

"Fuck your code Samuel Evans! Seriously! Fuck it!"

The fuzzy, purple robe she was wearing flared around her ankles and dragged on the floor as she stomped to the window and then back to him. "I need to get to my Mom. If there are more of those things then she could be next. I need to get some clothes." Her mind was racing, fear sending tremors down her body. Clothes meant money, meant going back to the house. She couldn't face that right now but she couldn't let anything happen to her mother. A small sob escaped her lips and she covered her traitorous mouth with her palm.

That's when Sam wrapped his giant, disgustingly muscular and delicious arms around her and pulled her against the furnace of his body. She shoved an elbow into his diaphragm and he grunted but only tightened his hold, one huge hand rubbing over the roundness of her belly. Her tummy had always been a weak spot – how Sam knew she had no idea. With a grumpy mumble she melted against him, leaning her weight into the tall, lean hardness of her not quite human boyfriend.

"We are already watching your mother Cedes. One of our elders is with her and will remain with her until we mend the tear in the veil and send the demon spawn back to hell."

He turned her in his arms, palms cupping her cheeks. "I swear to you that no more harm will come to you and yours until we put these demons down Mercedes and restore the balance to this plain."

She curled her hands around his wrists and clung, digging her fingers into the tendon and bone. Tears stung at her eyes, burned at the back of her throat, and she blinked them away. "What about you? I'd rather die than see anything happen to you."

She hadn't known she was going to say that but once it was said she knew she meant every word.

Sam's nose drifted against hers, his lashes tickling her skin and the shadow of his dark blond beard scratching at her chin and cheekbones. Mercedes giggled, going onto tiptoe as he came lower and she lifted herself higher. "You're like giant cat," she gasped. She was breathless – _when had she gotten breathless? _Sam rumbled back at her, the sound vibrating all through her body. "_Oh Jesus_," she whimpered.

Sam's lips finally came to a rest at the very corner of her mouth. "I pledge my life, my blood to your safety. I promise you Mercedes Jones that while I draw breath no harm will come to you and yours."

The words felt heavy, wrapping around her heart and squeezing so tight. "Sammy," she whispered and then he kissed her.

It felt like being eaten alive. Like swallowing the sun and turning to molten, mindless pleasure. The kiss tasted of tears, coffee and Sam and it was bliss so bright it hurt. Sam hands squeezed at her round, robe covered bottom and then _lifted_. Mercedes squeaked slightly in surprise, her legs wrapping around his waist. Sam chuckled – smugly she thought – and then dove right back into her mouth, tangling all slick, hot, wetness with her tongue. He dropped them down into the armchair, hands squeezing feverishly at the fullness of her hips and the rolls on her back. The tie on the fuzzy robe fell loose, slipping down her shoulders, gaping wide over her breasts. Sam hot mouth tugged one dark nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. Mercedes felt her already soaking pussy clench dizzyingly tight with the suckling, moisture seeping from her weeping vulva and right through Sam's jeans. He rolled his hips under her, letting her ride the hard ridge of his arousal. She keened, high and long, as the pleasure tore through her from the motion, head thrown back and breasts swaying as she ground down against him.

"Gods look at you," he groaned, gaze scalding her. She snapped her head forward and met his eyes, drowning all over again in the endless green. He bit at her neck then, pulling the skin between his teeth and bruising her with the force of his kiss. She cried out, hips undulating wildly.

"I'm going to fuck you so long and so hard you won't be able to think or feel anything but me. I'm going to keep you in my bed for hours, for days, and fill you with my seed till pleasure drips from your pores and the only word you know how to say is my name."

"Sam," she sobbed, forehead to his and her lips streaking at his eyelids and lips. "_Sammy_."

"_Just like that_," he growled. "_Exactly like that_."

"Samael." The voice came from behind the closed door but echoed through the room like a warning bell. Sam paused, breath harsh, heart racing, pounding like a drum in his head and throat and cock. _Gods they had been so close._

Mercedes kept grinding against him, oblivious in her quest for completion, and Sam had to dig his fingers into the buttery soft give of her ass to still her movements. "No," she moaned, fighting his grasp but he was determined. Her eyes finally cleared, coming back to focus on his face. Her breaths were hiccoughing, desperate little sobs and her kiss swollen lips trembled in frustration.

"Shhh baby, shhhhh," he soothed, tucking her head beneath his chin and rocking her gently. Her gasps slowed and the tension in her body slowly drained away till she was limp and pliant, lusciously heavy against him.

"Your dad is the best frikken cockblocker in the world," she finally muttered into the skin of his neck. Sam cracked up, laughing hard into the fragrant curls of her hair. "How does he even do that?"

She lifted her face and pouted at him. He laughed again. "We kind of have super hearing," he shrugged, blushing slightly. Her eyes widened.

"You mean they heard us?"

"Well – they probably tuned out most of it," he offered sheepishly.

"Oh my fuck! Sam Evans how could you not tell me that?"

He winced at her shrill tone and gave her a pair of puppy dog eyes that had gained him the favour of cranky women for centuries. "Sorry Mercy."

"Hmph!" she snorted, wrapping the robe around herself and beginning to rise from his lap. But he couldn't let her go and after a single attempt at tugging away she fell back into his lap, looking at him in bewilderment. They were silent for a moment, just staring at each other and absorbing the silence of the night.

"What is this Sam – this thing between us?" she finally asked, touching a hand to her chest and then to his.

Sam swallowed. "We care about each other," he lied, lightly.

She stroked one of his eyebrows, tracing a finger down the side of his face and over the dark red flush of his lips. "This is what it feels like?"

He nodded.

"It's just that – it feels so big and I can't..." she shook her head. "I just didn't think getting a boyfriend would feel this..._consuming_ you know?"

He nodded again and gently kissed her. "I know."

She bit her lip, tasting where he had been. "So you're sure this isn't some weird thing linked to – you know – the wings and stuff?"

Sam laughed. "You've never been more eloquent," he teased gently.

She smacked him on the chest, grinning down at him "Shut up you!"

He pulled her flush against him, hugging the squishy joy of her body tight and looking out the window at the darkness that seemed to press threateningly close against the window.

"I'm sure Mercy-mine. This is all perfectly normal."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Mercedes woke slowly, eyes blinking unwillingly open. Sunlight flooded the room and a warm breeze stirred the curtains lazily. Summer was definitely on its way and she was looking forward to the long, scorching days ahead. She stretched slowly, savouring the pull of her muscles, and that's when her eyes landed on Sam's slouched figure slumped awkwardly in the giant chair as he slept.

His mouth was open and he was snoring lightly. His hair stood up in silly looking tufts still streaked and clotted with blood. He looked so helplessly human – as distant as it was possible to get from the black winged creature of the night before. He didn't look like some ancient mythical beast – he just looked like her Sammy.

His mom – well, not really his mom but Mercedes had thought about Annabelle Evans as his mom for so long that she wasn't going to be able to stop overnight – had disapproved of his insistence that he remain with her for the night. Mercedes didn't get it. He was no teenage boy but they were all still acting as if he were a child. She'd said as much, politely, 'cos her mama had taught her to respect her elders whether human or not. And Anna had shot her an amused smile and responded, "While Sam may not be 17 Mercedes you are."

Right. That had shut her up. Sam had won the argument however after promising to sleep on the armchair. Mercedes had tried to dissuade him, half-heartedly she'd admit because she was terrified of being alone in the darkness, but he'd shook his head once, stubbornly, and that had been that.

Mercedes sat up in the huge, Sam scented bed, needing to pee so badly it ached but still savouring the warmth of the bedding. Her eyes were drawn back to Sam again, that heaviness in her heart that was a cross between fathomless pain and pleasure somehow stronger than the day before, but also calmer, less feverish. So she indulged it and just stared at him, drinking him in.

Mercedes had always known she was amazing, that she was beautiful. She'd also known that her kind of beautiful was not seen in the tiny town they lived in or amongst the mostly white students at her school. And if she was seen, if she became visible, she was either met with violence or a disbelieving kind of contempt and dismissal. And slushies. But Mercedes Jones was a woman going places and she had love in her life – so much love. Her mom and brother, aunts, uncles and grandma were her fount – she drew strength from them and tapped into the constant well of love they kept flowing for her. A small part of her, the part that sometimes took brutal honesty into the realms of cynicism, had already begun whispering about a future without a partner, without a lover, or children and she had begun to accept those insidious whispers because it hurt more to ignore them. Her mom had told her she was too young to be dwelling on so much heartache but Mercedes was an old soul and she knew that love and pain were not bound by something as arbitrary as age or time.

And then came Sam.

She had dismissed Sam from the moment he'd arrived at McKinely. He was another silly, pretty white boy jock panting after all the girls everybody else panted after. She had looked at him sometimes, when he wasn't watching, because lord knows the look of Sam Evans pushed all kinds of buttons for her physically, but it had been a harmless, distant kind of looking, nothing more. So after his heart wrenching confession during Glee she had been awash with shame. She had cooked him and his family a massive spread and gone to apologise to him for treating him like McKinely had always treated her.

She couldn't pinpoint the moment she had started to fall but suddenly nothing felt right, felt good without Sam. She sought him out more and more outside of Glee and outside of school. Mercy was a proud girl but when it came to Sam her pride somehow took a back seat to just being with him. The feeling had grown and it was still growing. Right now, looking at him, she felt a kind of craving to be nearer him, the sensation like hunger but worse. She needed to touch him – knew his skin would ease that indefinable hurt somehow.

Before she knew it she'd slid out of bed and was kneeling before him, hands running from his knees and up the length of his thighs. Sam groaned awake, all big stretching muscle and bone, so vivid he took her breath away. He blinked blearily at her, his lips curving into a smile, and reached one big hand out and cupped her face.

"Good morning Mercy," he rumbled, voice still sleep rough.

"Morning," she said, arms folded over his thighs and head tipped up and back, smiling sappily at him.

His hands slid down her t-shirt covered sides and then coaxed her up and into his lap, tucking her close and laying a kiss on her lips. The way he held her, the ease with which he moved and cradled her sent a thrill right through her body. "Aren't we a bit too stinky to be kissing," she whispered against his mouth, drinking him in. His face was bristly with early morning stubble and she rubbed her cheek against his, wriggling ever closer.

He sniffed at the space between them, grinning. "Yeah we're stinky but never too stinky for kissing." She laughed, lying back against the solid wall of his chest. They fit perfectly.

_God she was far gone_. She was so far gone she couldn't even summon a spark of embarrassment at her near naked, t-shirted presence in his lap. He was a long, line of unyielding heat beneath her and something in her, that raw, needy, hungry, aching something, just wanted to melt into him, disappear into him.

"I need to pee," she complained suddenly, pouting at her inconvenient bladder but grateful for the distraction from her increasingly sticky, bewildering emotions.

He snorted. "I'm not sure I can help you with that Mercy."

"What kind of a supernatural being are you anyway – can't even help a girl with her bladder?"she mocked softly, her fingers running over his chin and cheeks, indecently bare thighs sprawled high against his chest while her calves and feet peeked over the edges of the chair. The look on his face made her eyes tear a little and she had to swallow hard.

"I'm older than you. You should respect me," Sam begun, running a hand up and down her leg, trailing from just above her ankle to her knee. Mercedes shook herself free of the swiftly escalating sappy nonsense that was clouding her thoughts and poked him in the nose. The indignant look on his face sent her into peals of laughter, thankfully lightening the heaviness that seemed to be descending over her – over them.

"Whatever man – you are literally older than everything! Let me up – nature calls and if I wait a second longer your lap is going to be more acquainted with my nature than I think you're quite ready for."

"Oooo kinky!"

Mercedes threw Sam an amused look over her shoulder as she found her feet and sashayed to the loo. "No Evans. No," she said, dry as dust. Sam's laughter followed her into the hallway.

Anna had laid out a feast for breakfast. The Quickening, and fighting demons, took immense amounts of energy and she knew Sam would be ravenous. Stacy was kneeling in her chair, chewing at some bacon and talking loudly with Stevie who seemed to be determinedly dismembering a semi-melted Avatar figurine. Sam sat between the two of them, sipping a glass of mango juice and obviously trying to mediate the imminent explosion building between the two furiously yammering children. Anna slid a plate in front of him heaped high with bacon, eggs, sausages and toast and with a groan of appreciation and a thank you he dug in, the twin mutiny forgotten for the moment.

"Cedes!" Stacy shrieked when she spotted Mercedes on the stairs and every eye in the kitchen turned Mercy's way. The little girl then launched herself off the chair backwards, landed in a handstand and then gracefully sprang at Mercedes, dropping into the other girl's astonished arms.

"Stacy Hester Evans!" her mother shouted, hand on her hip and eyes fierce.

"But Moma Cedes knows now so it's fine if I show her my handstands," the child whined, hiding her face in Mercy's hair and avoiding her mother's eyes.

"You're such a show off!" Stevie complained, obviously annoyed that he hadn't thought of performing the Guardianesque acrobatics for Mercedes. Stacy smugly stuck her tongue out at him and then she and Mercedes dissolved into giggles.

"Stace those are some mad skills," Mercedes laughed, hoisting the child more securely onto her hip and walking towards the kitchen table. She shared a fond smile with Anna and then set the girl down back in her chair at Sam's side. Stevie, after throwing long, skinny arms tight round her neck and whispering how happy he was that she was living with them now – Mercedes blinked a little at that last – leapt from his chair, over their heads, and onto the one beside Stacy's and then smirked at the surprised adult faces.

"Stevie!" his mother barked, while Sam laughed.

"See I'm awesome too Cedes," he crowed, beaming at her, and she couldn't resist placing a warm kiss on his forehead, choking on laughter.

"Yes you are baby," she reassured him. "Both of you are awesome!" And she gathered an equally excited Stacy towards her and smooched her on the cheek.

Anna watched Mercedes with her babies and her insides just filled with warmth. The child was a mortal, yes, but her heart was pure and while the situation was far from ideal she thought that Sam had chosen well. "Have a seat suga – I'll fix you a plate," she told her warmly then turned back to the stove to fix Mercy's eggs just the way she liked them.

As Mercedes turned to sit in the chair Stevie had just vacated her eyes caught on Sam's eyes and her heart seemed to lodge in her throat. He was smiling at her, his entire face open and love beaming at her from every goofily gorgeous feature. He was freshly showered and shaved, his hair dark gold with moisture. She stepped closer to him, cupped his face in her hands, and laid the gentlest, sweetest kiss on his lips because she couldn't not touch him right then. His hands came to rest at the small of her back, burning bright through the material of the t-shirt Anna had loaned her.

"Sammy and Cedes sitting in a tree!" began the twins with wicked glee in their voices and, thankfully, the intensity between them was broken. With a chuckle Sam pulled his lips from hers and mock glared at the two. Mercedes gathered the swiftly unravelling threads of her sanity and sense of decency – _in front of the children Mercy really – and Sam's not-mom oh my god!_ – and sat down beside Sam, face hot.

"Here you go Mercedes, eat up honey," Anna said, laying a plate down in front of Mercedes and then running a warm palm across her shoulders, squeezing lovingly. Mercedes smiled back up at her then bit into a juicy mutton sausage, the turmeric and coriander notes of the grilled meat a delicious symphony in her mouth. She hadn't realised how hungry she was. Her stomach had felt as if it had wrapped itself around her spine it was so empty. Getting gnawed at by demonic monsters clearly worked up an appetite she thought, darkly amused.

"This is wonderful Anna, thank you," she said around her breakfast, inhaling the creamy, sugary coffee that was her lifeline in the morning.

"You're welcome dear. Both of you eat up – the day is already far gone and there's a great deal of work to be done."

Those words filled her with a kind of nervous energy making swallowing harder than it ought to be. As if he'd read her fear, as if he knew, Sam's hand found hers beneath the table and he wove their fingers together. He then moved his chair closer to hers till they were pressed tight together side by side. "I promised remember," he said quietly, gaze intent on hers. The lump in her throat dissolved and she nodded, reassured.

The kitchen door opened and Bronson and Jericho walked in carrying three suitcases, which Mercedes recognised as her very own leopard print travel kit. Clothes! Thank heaven. Anna's shirt and leggings fit, but barely. It was a hell of a squeeze getting her double Ds and epic ass into the woman's clothes and once she was in them the effect was indecent.

"Good morning y'all," drawled Bronson, looking like a harmless, cheery old man instead of one of the oldest Guardian elders alive. He had a limp, which Sam had assured her was real. Guardians could be wounded, and could be killed, just not easily. Sam had said an aronya demon, a siren, had pulled him beneath the water and eaten at the inside of his right thigh, her bite leaving a wasting poison behind in the wound. Bronson had killed the creature but, even with the healing power of the Guardians, his leg had never regenerated entirely. Sometimes, if she thought too hard on what Sam and his family were, she got a little breathless. It was a lot to take in.

Jericho walked into Anna's waiting embrace and kissed her gently and thoroughly, their bodies rocking slowly together. When they parted he turned and smiled at the rest of the family, Anna tucked under his arm. "Did you sleep well Mercedes?" he asked her, concerned gaze taking her in. Jericho resembled Sam so closely it was actually weirder that they weren't father and son. The man was a beacon of warmth, just like Sam, and she'd been drawn to him from their first meeting.

"I did, thank you Jericho."

And he nodded, kissed his wife's forehead, and then took a seat across from Mercedes and Sam. Stacy immediately climbed into her father's lap, feeding him bits of sticky, maple syrup toast.

"We cleansed your house Mercedes and brought you a few things while we were at it," he began, grinning down at his baby girl as she munched happily at her breakfast. "It won't be safe for either you or your mother for a while though – a long while. The skriiakae are cunning and there are many. The one that came for you last night was not trying to conceal itself. There will be others that do a much better job of it."

The words were like having a bucket of ice water thrown in her face. _More of those things?_ It had tried to _eat_ her. It had –

Sam's hand squeezed down on hers and he raised her suddenly chill palm to the broad, warm softness of his lips. She met his eyes, taking a deep breath and shoving the memories of last night's attack down once more.

"Have you called your mom yet?" Jericho asked.

Mercedes shook her head. "We have a one pm check in. She's paranoid about me being alone so she made us set a time so that she can start panicking if I haven't called her by one," Mercedes laughed, missing her mother fiercely. She leaned into Sam, thankful for the long, bare stretch of arm against her own. "If I call her before then she'll seriously freak out."

He nodded. "We need to keep the situation as normal for her as possible. We have engineered a delay in her travel plans and Shanaaz, one of our elders, will remain with her until this is over. You need not fear for your mother."

"They're here," Bronson's voice suddenly boomed from where he'd been silently drinking his coffee. The Evans clan and Mercedes all turned to him.

"Who's here?" the girl asked, meeting the old man's silvering eyes.

"We have assembled the Guardian council. We have summoned the remaining four Guardian Ancients from across the globe and they are here to help us re-seal the veil and re-establish balance. Get ready child," said the old man before rising from his seat and moving towards the sunshine flooded front stoep.

"Ancients?" she asked, turning back to Sam with a smile to hide her jangling nerves. In her mind Sam was pretty much ancient and Bronson had lived so long her mind couldn't quite fathom the time he had walked the earth. So if these Ancients were even older than Bronson how long had they been Guardians of the world?

Sam leaned forward and placed a damp, bacon flavoured kiss on her surprised mouth then let his forehead rest against hers in a move she was coming to realise was a favourite of his. His left hand reached up and threaded its way through her hair till his finger curled around her nape and his hand was cupping the tender curve of her cheek.

"Legend has it then when Lucifer fell the archangels, the Gods' first guard, wept for centuries in sorrow for they had loved him just as their Lords had loved him and when he fell he took many of their brothers and sisters with him. We, the Guardians, were born of these tears. Born of angelic love for the bonds of brotherhood and the love of human kind. The first of our number sprang from the earth fully formed, bound to the fate of the soil for eternity, bound to be Guardians to those who would someday return to the dust. Those first we call the Ancients and there are now only four remaining. We are a mixture of the mortal and the divine but Mercy we do not know the secrets of the Gods. Our sole purpose is to protect you, protect the bonds of love and family, and we do that by ensuring that the realms of human kind are forever kept separate from those where the fallen angels dwell because they do _not_ love your kind."

He kissed her once more, wet and slick and too brief, and then rose from his seat bringing her with him. "Come – the Ancients will know what to do."


	8. Chapter 8

"What abomination is this?"

The words fell like an axe – shocking and brutal – shattering the positive energy she had been basking in after breakfast. Mercedes felt Sam's entire body go rigid in response, hard like granite.

It was a man who had spoken, an older man who was all silver haired and dark eyed fire. He was standing against the window, a short, muscular figure, and he was looking at Mercedes and Sam with revulsion all over his face. Mercy felt like shrivelling beneath the withering gaze, pierced with shame. For a moment she felt as if she should drop Sam's hand as if she were a naughty child caught doing something dirty and forbidden. Sam stepped slightly in front of her, almost shielding her from the unexpectedly unfriendly faces of the Ancients seated in the Evans' living room.

"Mwennin that is enough!" barked a tall, caramel skinned woman with pitch black hair sheeting in a straight fall down to her waist as she glared at the man who had spoken.

"And who are you to silence me Sateya?" harshed Mwennin, voice like ice. He didn't even bother looking her way, his gaze fixed with icy disgust on Sam and Mercedes who stood frozen in the doorway.

"I strongly suggest that you silence your tongue sir," drawled Sam, southern accent dripping in heavy rage from every syllable as he took a menacing step towards Mwennin. The older man laughed.

"You challenge _me_ boy?"

Mercy had seen that Sam was winged death when he fought the demon for her. She remembered with startling clarity the combined horror and magnificence of what he was in that moment because she saw it staring back at her with cold, killing rage from Mwennin's eyes. Without a thought she stepped in front of Sam, placing herself between him and the enraged Ancient glaring daggers at them both. She pushed her back flush against Sam's chest and stared Mwennin down with every ounce of fierceness she had in her body, ignoring Sam's efforts to get her to stand behind him again.

"How dare you speak to us like that!" Mercedes hissed. "I don't care how ancient you happen to be – you're an asshole for coming in here and insulting Sam in his own home! And what the fuck do you mean we're an abomination? What are you even talking about!"

A stunned silence descended on the room as the gathered Guardians all stared at Mercedes in astonishment. Her anger had always come upon her suddenly, righteous, heated and thoughtless. When it faded though, as it was doing in the painful silence, and sense came back to her she felt fear gnaw at her in the face of the powerful beings that she had dared to stand in opposition of.

Laughter pierced the tension and they all turned to see that it came from a young man who sat perched on edge of one of Bronson's couches. His hair was all glossy, kinky curls and his eyes gleamed pale brown, like sunlight through water. "Well that was certainly unexpected," he chuckled, unfolding a tall, muscled body and moving towards Mercedes. She straightened her spine and curled her fists. Ancients or not she was just about ready to punch anybody who looked as if they were heading for Sam but the young man only drew her fisted palm into his hands and, twinkling eyes glued to her face, laid an extremely inappropriate kiss on the inside of her wrist. Sam growled and pushed forward but she jerked her hand free and turned to him, placing that small, now open hand where his heart was pounding like a hammer and the air was turned to a weird, wavy haze around him.

"Sam," she said, cupping his cheek. "Sammy!" And that tore his furious gaze away from the man behind them and onto her face. His whole body gentled when he saw her worried frown and the haze slowly drew back into his body, the room settling as if it had released a relieved breath.

"This really is _very_ interesting," said the smirking twit who had nearly caused the explosion, eyes lit up with curious glee, and Mercedes threw him a dirty look over her shoulder before stepping under Sam's right arm and wrapping her own around him.

"Mikhail this is hardly useful," came Bronson's gruff voice. The sound seemed to bring reality back into the strange tension of the room. "We called on you for assistance. We have enough adversity and need no further. Will you help us or not?"

All of the Ancients were staring at the two, mortal and Guardian, standing in a unified front against them. The looks on their faces – they just filled Mercedes with terror because she didn't understand what was happening. The Ancient's had been called to heal the breech in the veil – why was their ire fixed on her and Sam? Finally the other woman in the room, a tall, dark skinned and bald headed beauty who had been silent so far, tore her eyes away from the two of them, turned to Bronson and spoke. "Yes brother, we will help."

Bronson nodded. "Thank you Pulane," he said then wrapped a soothing arm around Mercy's back and urged her to take a seat. Sam stuck ludicrously close to her side, standing beside the chair she occupied and looking for all the world like a bristling, blonde guard dog – which he sort of was. Bronson couldn't help the ironic smile that quirked his lips. The two of them were certainly going to guarantee that his next few centuries on earth were not boring. He turned to face the thunderous Ancients, feeling the tension and fear wafting off of them as they observed the entirely mismatched, impossible couple.

Bronson had been the only human-Guardian hybrid for millennia – more millennia than a sane mind could actually conceive of – and in that time he had more than learnt the cruel lessons that not fitting in had to teach. While the scars of that time would never heal the pain had made him stronger, had made him more fearless, more willing to live and more ready to love. He knew the incredible gains the journey the two youngsters were embarking on would reap but he also knew that the hatred and endless, crushing pain that awaited them might break the tender, fledgling bond growing to a steady, lustrous, crimson threaded gold between them. It stretched between them – barely there like a dragonfly's wings in sunlight. Neither Mercedes nor Sam could see it yet – but it was this that had horrified the Ancients and it was this that made Bronson certain that the pair must complete the Bond.

"We know," he began, settling himself into his favourite couch, "that there is a very powerful demon tearing at the veil from where the Kin are held captive."

"Yes, we are aware of this too," began Mwennin impatiently. The man had been alive too long. He was now more bored impatience, arrogance and disillusion than he was wander. Bronson wanted to tape his mouth shut and tie him to a tree for a century or two in order to wipe that sourness out of him. He hurrumphed in irritation and then continued his sentence.

"What you are not aware of is the fact that we have established that there is a Guardian working to thin the veil from earth side." Bronson's words hit like granite and he heard Sateya draw an involuntarily breath.

"You mean to tell us that there is a Guardian willingly working with a demon in order to set their kind free on this planet?" she demanded, rising from where she had curled into one of the couches. Bronson nodded, face wreathed in lines of worry.

"Yes ma'am. And this Guardian is very likely one of the Elders because we cannot trace their mark, they leave behind no essence. Only the oldest among us know how to shield that well."

"Where did you come by this information?" Mwennin asked suddenly, voice laced with suspicion as he rose menacingly over Bronson. Bronson laughed, loud and heartily.

"Truly Mwennin for one who has walked the earth as long as human kind has existed you show remarkable lack of wit."

Mwennin's skin flushed dark red with rage and he roared, "You will show me respect half breed or I will take it in flesh from your hide!"

Bronson whipped out of the chair, his back suddenly straight and body coiled tense and hard. The appearance of age fell off of him like a cape he had simply shrugged off and Mercedes saw the terrifying power that lived beneath the human mask he presented to the world. Sam had also moved and was standing at Bronson's flank, looking as fiercely dangerous as the Elder while Anna and Jericho stood at the back of the bristling Ancient, ready to leap to into action if he moved against Bronson.

Mercedes was breathless. The air seemed to literally crackle around her – the smell of ozone steadily filling the room as the Guardians braced for bloodshed. This was honestly just getting too weird – and if her four Guardians fought Mwennin, who was as old as time and the portrait of a crotchety old man stuck in a youngish one's body, who would win? And what about the other Ancients who, creepily, weren't even watching the unfolding drama between Mwennin and the Evans clan but were instead staring fixedly at her. She gulped and stood, wanting to get away from their crawling gaze.

"Uhm – Sam," she began, curling a hand high around his bicep as she rose to stand beside him.

Mikhail trailed his eyes lazily over her and winked at her before saying mockingly, "Children! Children! Let's play nice shall we. Mwennin seat yourself and calm down for five seconds. This is in the interests of all Guardians and all of human kind because if the veil tears in one place it will cleave and open up everywhere till the fabric of the planes of the world is completely tattered and we're faced with a premature apocalypse. I don't know about the rest of you but I would really rather not have to fight anymore zombies for the next few millennia – the damned things reek."

His words punctured the animosity filling the room and Mercedes watched with relief as Mwennin shrank somehow and Bronson shifted back to looking like a very old man. Sam was still tense though. He wasn't doing the wavy-air thing he did when his power was rising but he wasn't back to all human either. That meant that the knots in Mercy's tummy weren't going anywhere because Sam was her barometer in this totally fucked up situation.

"Now we speak plainly," began Pulane as Mwennin finally sat down. She took a sip from the dainty cup of tea that had sat cooling beside her since Mercedes and Sam walked in and crossed long, gorgeous legs, pinning her eyes on Sam. "The girl must come with us. The demons will not stop trying to acquire her and you do not possess the skill to keep her safe."

Sam was already shaking his head. "No," he said, simply.

"Samael this is not a request," said Pulane, her voice a calm steady sound spilling terror right through Mercedes.

"She is mine and she is not leaving my side." The words felt like a declaration and Mercedes knew she wasn't the only one who felt their weight. Pulane smiled – the way an indulgent mother would smile at a disobedient child.

"You have not Bonded her. She is not yours until you cement that Bond and while she is an Un- Bonded human she will go where I say she goes."

Mercedes eyes had been moving between Sam and the imposing Pulane, confusion rising higher and thicker within her. _What were they talking about?_

"Sam – " she began but he spoke over her.

"The only way Mercedes Jones will leave my side is if I lie dead and cannot keep her there."

That sent a ripple through the room and Mikhail sat forward, eyebrows raised at Sam. "Samael she is the mortal that Nomathamsanqa spoke of before she waned. This child could bring about the destruction of our people."

Mercedes had had enough. She was sick of being scared. She was tired of being confused and it was dawning on her that Sam had not told her everything. He had lied to her. She gently took her hand from his arm, shoving the clamour of terror in her head down and down. Not touching him was actual physical pain now but she shoved at that too, amazed at how gullible she had been to believe him when he said that this feeling – this thing that seemed to live in her and was tying her ever tighter to him – was _normal_. This entire mess was as far from normal as it was possible to get. Sam looked down at her the moment her touch left his and he couldn't hide the slight flare of panic in his eyes when he saw her resolute face.

"Mercy," he began but she raised her hand and he quieted.

"What's going on Sam? What are they talking about?"

Mikhail made a delighted sound and Mercedes turned to face him.

"You haven't told her. She doesn't know." The words were filled with disbelieving glee as the impish Ancient ran a hand through his springy hair. "Oh dear Samael. How could you give your heart away to a mortal woman with no guarantee that she would give hers in return? I knew young love was foolish but this is the first time I've seen a Guardian make it suicidal."

"Seriously, Ancient or not, you need to shut the hell up," snapped Mercedes and she glared even harder as the irreverent Guardian simply looked vastly entertained by her outburst.

Sam took the opportunity of her distraction to weave his fingers through hers, stepping back into her space again. "Mercy – "

"No Sam."

"Listen to me!"

"No!" she shrieked, wrenching her hand free from his and taking a deliberate step away from him. He looked as if she'd slapped him. "What haven't you told me? What is really going on with – with us?"

Sam's face looked stretched out with misery and he reached for her again, almost helplessly, before lowering his hand. "Please Mercy, I can explain. What they are talking about is Ancient prophesy – but the entire point of this prophesy is to warn us so that we can change it – make it better. You will not bring about anybody's end. You're mine."

Mercedes had been so focused on Sam her entire body jolted in shock as Mikhail suddenly wrapped long, elegant fingers around her wrist. His touch felt like an intrusion and the little sound of shock she made did not go unnoticed. Sam growled, eyes narrowed to glimmering green slits, lips drawn back into a snarl.

"You dare to touch her," he began – his voice sounding like a strangled roar.

Mikhail sneered. "I've had enough of all this teen angst and melodrama. You have forgotten yourself boy – you have forgotten that you are not human. The girl is not yours. She is merely a part of your flock and you have failed in your duty as her Guardian. She is coming with us now and there is nothing you can do about it."

Quicker than a thought, Sam suddenly launched himself at Mikhail, wings exploding from his back, eyes like pools of fire. In a lightning fast move that Mercedes barely caught Sam plunged the dagger he had killed the demon with just he night before into Mikhails neck and then rose as crimson sprayed viciously from the other man's savaged throat, pulling the bloodied blade from his neck. The other Guardians stood as if frozen, various looks of shattered disbelief on their faces. Sam didn't even pause though. He swept Mercedes against his side, tucking her in close, and they were gone.


	9. Chapter 9

They were on a train – _a goddam train of all things_ – in a compartment fitted with plush burgundy seats, a cream covered double bed and glossy wood furnishing. The beautiful, summer's day had turned to a stormy grey downpour outside the window and countryside flickered by in a damp green smear. The weather fit Mercedes's mood perfectly. Sam was sitting across the compartment from her – had been sitting there since he had unceremoniously deposited her in the suit and locked the door about half an hour ago. He hadn't said a word – just washed the blood from his hands and then sat down on the huge leather couch facing the bed – face glowing with sweat and eyes fixed intently on her. It felt like being watched by something big and hungry and Mercedes just wasn't up for this shit – she just wasn't. The wings had snapped back to wherever they came from the moment they had landed on the train but he was still all Guardian, still vibrating and high on power. All she wanted was to curl onto his lap and put her lips right where his pulse beat like a drum and she was denying herself that with every particle of her being because Mercedes Jones hated this feeling of not being in charge of herself, not being in control.

"Is he dead?" she finally asked, mouth sticky and dry.

"Why do you care?" His voice scraped so deep and low she barely heard him, just heard the anger lacing the words.

Her head snapped around to him, hair whipping across her cheeks as she glared at him. "Seriously? Seriously Sam? _You_ are giving _me_ attitude right now?"

"I just don't understand why you're asking after another man – one you just met and who wanted to take you away from me." His tone was a million shades of irrational accusation and it sent pure, blinding rage searing through Mercedes's brain.

"Cos you just stabbed him in the fucking neck you lunatic! Cos he's like a million years older than you and has three other buddies who don't like us and are probably on their way here right the fuck now! That's why Sam – that's why!" She ended the sentence in a fairly hysterical bellow, standing right in front of him, face parallel with his as she stabbed a purple tipped nail into his chest with every furious emphasis. Sam grabbed her around the ass, fingers digging deep into the flesh, and yanked her hard into his lap before flipping her down onto her back in one breathtaking move. He had a knee nudging hard at her suddenly dripping pussy and his entire body forming a prison of muscle above her, around her. _"He smells so fucking good,"_ her brain pointlessly, infuriatingly noted and that set her to fighting his hold.

She twisted and arched her back, bucking hard. "Get off me!" she panted but all he did was drop his lean hips into the V of her thighs and he settled there like her crotch was home, entirely unmoved by her futile struggles.

She had never seen Sam like this. He looked as if he didn't know if he wanted to fuck or fight, face all hard lines and angles. His eyes were Sammy's, but Guardian Sammy, and that scared her and flooded her panties at the very same time.

"Give me your mouth. I want your mouth," he whispered hoarsely, his breath damp heat against her face as his lips sucked hard, wet kisses into her chin and neck and shoulders before swooping back up to claim her panting mouth. The kiss – she was drowning in the kiss. He stole her breath with that kiss, taking it deeper and deeper, licking at the inside of her mouth and tangling messy and slick with her desperate tongue. It was as if he were drinking her down, his hands an almost painful pull in her hair, the sensation sending shock waves of pleasure all over her inexperienced body. His hands found the rounded collar of the tshirt she was wearing and then pulled, the material ripping with a loud sound and her breasts spilling free into his waiting hands. She made a high, keening sound when he finally released her lips and let her breathe and that seemed to bring him back to himself a bit, brought humanity a little closer to the surface again.

"Mercy," he groaned, his kisses gentler than they had been a moment ago and his hand squeezing obsessively over the curves of flesh at her back, her ass, hips and thighs, lips tugging almost painfully at her engorged nipples, grinding the steel of his cock in a rhythmic, circular motion against the now soaking wet crotch of her leggings – well his mom's leggings actually.

"Oh God I just thought about your mother," she panted, cupping her breasts and feeding the aching tips into his hot, wet mouth. That surprised a laugh out of Sam and he paused and met her gaze. They both dissolved into slightly unhinged giggles till they quieted, Mercedes into delighted snorts. Sam took several deep, Mercedes scented breaths of air and lifted her till she was lying mostly on top of him, the wet heat of her burning through his thigh instead of straight at his crotch where it was driving him insane, breasts a soft crush on his chest.

"Why?" he asked, nuzzling at her ear.

"Cos I'm fornicating with you in her pants that she loaned me this morning."

Sam smirked, ridiculously sexy, and licked kiss swollen, crimson lips. His pupils had dilated and the green was just a thin rim around the black centres of his eyes. She couldn't stop undulating against him, each shallow roll of her hips sending zinging sparks of pleasure through her. "Mercedes I'm going to fuck you now." There was a darkness to his words, a grimness. She shuddered helplessly at the feeling that swelled through her as she heard them. "Because I can't resist you anymore. I can't fight this anymore. I just want to be inside you and it's driving me mad not being there. I can't - "

She kissed him then, sucked his bottom lip into her mouth and then bit at his upper, loving the wet satiny texture of their mouths gliding together. "I know Sammy. I want you too."

He squeezed his eyes shut, hands tightening on her hips, forcing them to still while he breathed long and deep. "But I have to tell you something before we - "

Just then Mercedes curled a tentative little hand around the iron hard thrust of his cock in his blood splattered jeans. Sam made a strangled sound, like somebody had punched the air out of him, and his hand shot down to curve over hers, holding her tight to the powerful twitch of his jean encased cock. "_Gods_," he hissed, opening his eyes again. "You're going to be the death of me."

The way he said it – like he actually meant it – made her pause but before her brain could let the words sink in and explore why they bothered her, Sam slid his hands into the offending leggings and right over the dripping seam of her vulva. Her entire body convulsed – the feeling so intensely shocking she didn't know how to process it. He delved a thick finger between the swollen lips, running a knuckle over the tender inner folds till he was nudging at her entrance, pressing slowly inwards and making her sob at the sensation.

"Pants off," he muttered before flipping her over onto her back again and pulling the offending leggings off and away. Mercedes didn't even have time to feel shy, to be uncertain, because as soon as he had her bare before him he pushed her knees apart wide and slid two fingers into her soaking pussy again, separating the sticky lips and staring down at the dark, gleaming, twitching opening. His head swooped down and he buried his wide open mouth in the dripping flesh, nose nudging at her throbbing clit.

She shrieked, eyes wide, legs snapping closed over his head while her body thrust up into his mouth in a shattered, grinding motion. "Sammy," she sobbed as he pushed her legs open further and shoved them higher, holding her clenching, dripping cunny even wider. His mouth was sending her to heaven – tongue thrusting and licking, teeth nipping, lips sucking. Mercedes's orgasm hit her like a tidal wave – sudden, irrevocable, devastating. It felt as if every hot, summer night she'd ever experienced had been turned to solid, dark molasses, laced with a few million gallons of wine, sparked with a few thousand volts of electricity and then slammed onto her and over her and through her till she was whimpering, weeping incoherent pleasure incarnate.

When she came to Sam was whispering feverishly in her ear, saying in a voice so bleak it broke her heart, "Forgive me baby – forgive me Mercedes."

"Sammy?" she asked, turning her head on a neck loose from the pleasure still reeling through her. She was heavy and floppy and uncoordinated, legs sprawled wide beneath Sam's now nude weight. As he reared above her, cock a huge, hard, wet curve against his muscle ripped belly, Mercedes felt something inside her yield, break beneath his loving gaze and the intensity of the thing that was now pounding, overwhelming, between the two of them. He was trembling, looking at her with a kind of fear in his eyes that she couldn't bear seeing there. "Come baby, come Sammy," she whispered, reaching for him, a soft, beautiful, brown embrace he could not resist. He settled into her and over her then, thrusting his cock into the sealed tight virgin depths of her. The feeling of him entering her echoed the immense, crushing sensation of the feeling between them. His cock pierced her, broke her and remade her, thrusting relentlessly deeper and deeper till she felt speared from toe to chin, ruthlessly spit on pain and pleasure.

"Mercedes," he groaned, sounding lost above her. She opened eyes she didn't remember shutting and stared up into his face creased in agony. He was braced above her, muscles bulging, the veins on his forearms standing against his skin in sharp relief. There was a droplet of sweat hanging full, fat and clear from his jaw and she arched her head up and sucked the salty tang of him into her mouth. His eyes blazed at her, literally blazed as if lit with a thousand candles from within, and that's when she realised that they were surround by the inky, black plushness of his wings.

She tightened her thighs around his hips and thrust herself upwards and deeper onto the impaling cock still buried inside her. He sobbed harshly, dropping his head into the crook of her shoulder and biting down hard on the flesh there, making her scream as his teeth sank deeper and deeper, the sensation tugging viciously, relentlessly at her throbbing womb. "I love you Sammy," she whimpered against the shell of his ear, licking at the straining tendons of his neck. With a deep sound too full of hunting birds, sharp claws and bared teeth to be human Sam began to thrust into her. He wasn't gentle, each push in and out like being speared open all over again and pleasure pounding higher and higher inside her, swift on the heels of the diminishing pain. Mercedes was delirious from the pleasure, breath lost in his mouth again, heart screaming at her and sweat pouring from her. And then it felt as if where she had been breaking open, steadily yielding – that place inside was torn asunder and she screamed, helplessly, as Sam poured into that place, as his power seared from his skin right through hers – impaling her soul just like his cock impaled her body. She couldn't stand it – couldn't bear it – but it had to be borne. And in that moment she knew – utterly knew – that she was his.

Sam had fucked up. He had been fucking up since he met Mercedes. He lost his head around her – lost his sense of himself, his Gods given purpose. When he was with her his world shrank down to Mercedes - to Sam and Mercedes – and it was that utter addiction to her that had influenced every decision he had made since she blazed into his life a year ago. She was lying with her head on his chest, breasts a dazzling crush, one deliciously fat thigh thrown over his legs and the wet heat of her snatch riding his hip. _Gods that tight little pussy_. His cock throbbed fiercely at the memory and he had to clutch the determinedly thickening member to ease the ache some till he could be back inside her. She snuffled softly, interrupting her abandoned snoring for a little bit, and rolled that dripping coochie wantonly against him before falling back into deep sleep. One of the side effects of the Bond, now stretching strong and almost smug between them, was that she could feel what he felt unless he shielded from her. He would always feel what she felt though because human beings could not shield and right now her body and mind were blissed out, fucked out contentment. The place where he had bitten her was swollen in the shape of his mouth, turning a dark purple and throbbing hot and tender. It throbbed in her clitoris too – he could feel the pulse of it and so he leaned over and gently licked it. She shuddered deeply but slept on.

Giving his heart to a mortal – that was fuck up number one. But he wasn't too hard on himself for that one – he didn't have a choice. His heart and soul wanted her and so he had to have her. But still a fuck up

Fuck up number two was when he stabbed Mikhail – that smug fuck. He attacked a fellow Guardian for her – an Ancient. Sam groaned slightly, dropping a hand over his eyes. He'd do it again in a heartbeat – that pervert Mikhail was going to take her from him and that was never gona happen – but to attack an Ancient, a fellow Guardian, was no laughing matter amongst their kind. They were hunting them now – Ancient and Elders putting out determined, enraged calls throughout the globe seeking him and Mercedes. Mikhail had not died from the blow – it took a lot more than the damage he had down to permanently put down a Guardian – and that meant that he was pissed off and looking harder than everybody else. Wonderful.

And then fuck up number three – and this one was immense. He had Bonded a mortal without telling her, without explaining the magnitude of what they were doing. Mercedes was going to be beyond pissed. Now they shared a heartbeat, thoughts and feelings. He had Bound his blood to hers and even if she left him that Bond would never be broken. He had not completed the Bond though – had not taken the oath – had just barely kept from whispering those vows and so she could leave when she wanted to. He had not Bound their breath – their life essence – and so when he waned as he would without the complete Bond – she would live on. Sam had never imagined he would find a being he loved more than life itself – and by Gods he loved life but he loved this round, amazing being even more.

The thing about all these fuck ups, he thought, was that he didn't regret a single one of them. Sam felt whole – complete in a way he had never felt for two long millennia. She was lodged securely inside him, nestled and protected and safe where nothing and nobody would hurt her while he still breathed.

Mercedes made a sleepy rumbling sound and then snuffled awake, eyes heavy lidded and lips kiss swollen and sleep slack. "Sammy," she crooned, voice sweet and thick as she beamed up at him. He rolled towards her, rolled her under him and slid his now hard cock right back into the still slick passage of her cunny. She moaned, clenching down tight against him, head thrown back against the pillow and neck bared.

"You're so damn beautiful, have I told you that lately?" he whispered, licking at the bruised, raised bite he'd left on her shoulder, his wings mantling and quivering about them with every thrust.

"Yes," she whimpered, losing herself in his kiss, fingers threading through the strands of his hair.

As the train moved rhythmically beneath them and the storm beat at the windows, the two lovers moved in the dimly lit gloom, their faces illuminated by passion and tenderness.

"I love you Mercedes Jones – don't ever forget that."


	10. Chapter 10

Elias Hink had been a night watchman at Steele and Jennings Construction for ten long years. Steele and Jennings were both rich bastards and arrogant sons 'o bitches who, even after a decade, couldn't remember his name. But the job paid well and he had the beginnings of really decent pension put away. Elias was a young man at just 40 but he still held many of the values of generations past: hard work, constancy, loyalty. Plus being a night watchman wasn't exactly the most prestigious of jobs so he made sure to keep his head down and get the work done – no fuss, no foul.

Elias took a long, slurpy sip of his coffee, savouring the bitter burn of the brew going down. The nights were warm now but he still had to have his coffee. It was a comfort in the deepest parts of the night when the silence of the world lent the air an odd, crystalline kind of fragility. Tonight was particularly quiet. Usually the neighbourhood dogs would bark and cars full of bored teenagers would roar past but tonight the silence lay thick and heavy. He shuddered slightly then shook the odd feeling away. Working nights for as long as he had had taught him not to dwell on some of the oddities that took place in the night. It was just all around better for his mental well being.

He curled his palm around the comforting butt of his gun and kept it there while he walked around the deserted parking lot, flashlight gleaming off of the fence surrounding the property. His cell phone buzzed and he reached to fish it out of his back pocket, pausing in the shadow of one of the archways of the building and setting the nearly empty flask on the floor. It was David. He couldn't help the smile that warmed his usually homely features. He had met David a year ago after leaving his wife, Marie, six months earlier. Elias had fought himself and his helpless yearning for men for 38 long years but David – David had come out of nowhere and burrowed under his skin and mapped out a place for himself in Elias's heart. He loved him so much and he couldn't believe that David loved him back. They had officially moved in together three months back and Elias was so happy sometimes he felt as if he had to hide it somehow lest fate realise that it had only accidentally graced him with joy and then would snatch it away from him.

When the veil finally tore it made no sound. Nothing changed except the thickening of the already expectant silence of the night. The first Elias knew that anything untoward had happened was when he heard his name softly called out. His head jerked up in astonishment at the sound and his eyes landed, in shock, on his ex-wife Marie standing right before him. She was beautiful – had always been beautiful – standing in a halo of light and somehow dazzling. He straightened from where he'd been leaning against the wall, taking a helpless step towards her. Elias had loved Marie – loved her with every particle of his being – but he didn't love her with his body no matter how desperately he had wished he could. The divorce had been bitter and she hadn't spoken to him since then and he still missed her, fiercely, every day. She was his best friend. Seeing her here, tonight, after so long was like being drenched with dread and relief and hope all at the same time.

"Why – how are you here? Your mother told me you moved to New York. She said –"

"Shhh," she said softly, her smile beckoning him closer. "I've missed you so much Elias."

With tears sheening his eyes, blinded by the promise of forgiveness, Elias walked into her reaching embrace and at the first touch of her skin finally realised that something was very very wrong.

Marie's embrace was cold, heavy, rank. She smelt of old blood and her skin was the waxy chill of a corpse. He tried to pull away but her arms were like bands of steel, unmoving. She started crooning softly, singing a song to him that seemed to steadily curl ice through his veins and into the core of his wildly pounding heart. He couldn't move – _he couldn't move_ – and this thing...this thing that wasn't Marie was licking at the sweat dripping down his face now, licking and snuffling hungrily while that horrible, horrible melody bound him ever tighter with invisible bonds.

"Good little human. So sweet and tasty. I'll be quick I promise," it whispered in his beloved's voice and Elias watched in mute, paralysed horror as its mouth yawned wide to reveal a maw filled with a multitude of jagged, rotted teeth. It sank that slaughter house mouth right into his shoulder and Elias screamed over and over in silent agony as it pulled meat and muscle from bone, chewing wetly.

It shrieked suddenly, this monster with bits of his skin all chewed up in its mouth, and dropped his leaden body to the ground as a glowing blade pierced through its back, up through it shoulder and thunked wetly into the side of its neck. A man peered over its shoulder and down at Elias's prone form, features lost in shadow but shimmering with a kind of blinding, beautiful light at the same time.

"I told you," hissed the gorgeously, glowing man holding the dripping sword lodged deep into the things neck. "First we end the Guardians and then you eat."

The thing no longer looked like Marie as it sobbed and nodded, clawing at where the blade cut ever deeper into its neck. "Yes Master," it whimpered in a voice gone gurgling and thick.

"_Yes Master,_" came an echo of a legion of voices. Elias's eyes tore away from the two horrors before him to widen at the writhing mass of shining white things crawling from where the air rippled light and dark and oozed wrongness. The nameless, blood curdling horror crawled and staggered and limped and flew past him, empty, glossy eyes glittering in starving longing at the blood welling sluggishly from his throat.

Elias watched them for what felt like an eternity, too terrified to shut his eyes, bleeding too badly to run or even begin to offer any kind of resistance. Finally, thankfully, the foul, impossible crawl slowed and the gash of unnatural light in the night sky tried to stagger closed again but couldn't. It kept oozing un-wholesomeness, like a putrid wound, and Elias could feel its poison seeping into him even as his blood spread into a bigger and bigger pool around him. As his eyes finally sank closed he could hear David's frantic voice, tinny and terrified, coming through the speakers of the phone that lay just out of reach.

Sam woke screaming – long and loud and hoarse. The sound so full of despair it brought tears of terror to Mercy's eyes. His wings were out, mantling restlessly behind him, sounding like thunder rumbling in the distance. Mercedes threw a leg over his hips and straddled him, arms going around his neck, shouting, "Sammy! Baby wake up! Sammy!"

His eyes finally focused on her face, his voice dying to hoarse, painful pants. He clutched her close, burying his nose in neck, hot tears spilling from his face and onto her skin.

"_Sammy please. What's going on?"_

He took a thick, trembling breath and then lifted his head, cradling her cheek in his palm. "The veil has torn. The first of the demons have broken free. First blood has been spilt."

She gasped, mouth moving uselessly as she stared at him in horror. "How? I thought we had time? Where? Oh my God Sam..."

"We have to go back to Lima. We have to move now. The Guardians are gathering there and I have to help them destroy the demon spawn and mend the veil."

He swallowed heavily, Adams apple bobbing in his stubbled throat. "I need to get you to sanctuary first though. Stevie and Stacie – we need to get you all to safety."

"I go where you go."

Her voice came small and stubborn, eyes glued to his. Sam blinked in astonishment, the human fading back into his gaze. There she sat, naked in his lap, determined to follow him into a fight never meant for human kind against creatures that even her worst night mares could not conjure. The train was still moving, winding its way south to Tennessee. Dawn was just bruising the sky in pale lavender and orange outside their windows and the air in their compartment was warm and spicy with the smell of sex and slumber. He gathered her against himself, gently kissing her forehead, eyelids, the round button of her nose, the sweet apples of her cheek and the plush sweetness of her lips.

"Let's get dressed. Bronson, Anna and Jericho are waiting for us."

She was still for a time, studying his face for any kind of deception, surprised at his easy capitulation. But then she nodded and rose from his lap and the bed and onto the ruby carpet. He watched her walk into the bathroom, a smile curling his lips at the magnificence that was Mercedes from the back.

Even after two millennia life surprised Sam. And enchanted him. He shook his head and shook his feathers, wandering at the determined manifestation of the wings. They had been popping out every chance they got lately, almost showing off. He gave them an amused smile and felt them slide away again, curling back into his soul. Then he stepped into the shower behind Mercedes, sliding his arms around her slick body. Yesterday had been a miracle of love and lust – today they faced a war.

"Will he live?" Jericho asked as Anna lifted her palms from the Elias's body. The Evans had arrived at the location of the tear first. The morning had dawned grey and sullen and eerily, horribly still. The demons had not attacked yet – except for poor Elias – but the horror, the sheer wrongness of their presence polluted the energy of the air and the residents of the little town sensed the hovering menace. None of the stores had opened yet, no cars were on the road. Birds and dogs were silent. It was as if a mute button had been pressed on Lima.

"He'll live," replied Anna, gentling the restless movements of the man into deeper slumber.

As she rose from where she'd been kneeling a man in a leather coat and blue pyjamas came roaring around the corner on a motorbike. He screeched to a halt when he saw them, drawing a gun on the Guardians who stared at him in surprise. "Get away from him!" he screamed, eyes swivelling in panic stricken terror from Elias to the Guardians, obviously trembling. "What did you do to him?"

"Easy son, easy," rumbled Jericho, raising placating hands at the frantic man. This was the last thing they needed. The other Guardians were coming, mere seconds from materialising before the hysterical human, and while they were mostly invulnerable bullets did do damage that required recovery time – and they needed every Guardian alive in the fight that was about to take place.

"Karofsky?" Mercedes's voice rang clear and surprising across the empty courtyard. Anna and Jericho blinked at her and Sam, relieved, while Karofsky looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Karofsky man, why are you holding a gun to my parents?" Sam asked, fearlessly approaching the young man and casually pushing his hands down till the gun was pointed at the ground and not at the Guardians. Dave stared, mouth working silently, at Mercedes and Sam, trembling with fear and relief. Seeing them made the horror of the past hour seem a little less present. Dave had listened in helpless horror as Elias was attacked, and getting here had felt like moving through mud – nowhere near fast enough.

"Your – your folks?" he asked Sam finally.

"Yeah man. What's going on?"

The ex-football player lay a large, warm palm on Dave's back and he sagged a little against Sam. "I thought they were hurting Elias. I hear – I heard somebody hurt Elias. And now ... now I think he's dead."

He sobbed the last, tears spilling hot and helpless down his face.

"He's not dead Dave – we promise he's not dead. He was attacked but we found him and he's going to be fine," murmured Anna, moving towards the boy and pulling him into a hug. Then she led him to his love's side and Karofsky fell to his knees beside Elias, hoisting him against his chest, face buried in his blood stained hair.

Elias made a snuffling noise then, turning his face into Dave's chest and sighing happily in his sleep. The sound was so familiar – so utterly incongruous in the blood splattered, charcoal reality of where they sat – it sent a shard of relief so strong through Dave's whole body that he doubled over in pain. "Thank God, thank God," he gasped, rocking Elias gently.

Mercedes watched the couple with tears gleaming in her eyes. "I'd wandered what had happened to Karofsky," Sam said into her ear, his arms around her as they had been since they had woken.

"I didn't expect him to end up with a dude that much older than him though," Mercedes whispered. "Dude must be like 40-something."

Sam chuckled. "I'm over 2000 year older than you so it really is a very severe case of pot and kettle."

She laughed and marvelled at herself for laughing. They were standing in the middle of an ugly cement and gravel courtyard on a grey, heavy morning watching as their former tormenter wept over his bloodied, middle aged lover and despite that – despite the fear gnawing at the edges of her mind and spirit – she could laugh because she was with Sam.

"Age ain't nothing but a number," he began to sing and Mercedes couldn't prevent a giggle from escaping as she turned into his embrace, burying her face in his hoodie clad chest.

"Samael," came Jericho's dry voice and Sam shut up immediately and smiled sheepishly at the older man. "You've caused a mess of trouble in the past 24 hours."

He nodded, clasping hands with Mercedes. He looked, steadily, at Anna and Jericho and then placed a hand on Jericho's shoulder and bent his forehead to the other Guardian's.

"It was necessary," he said, no apology in his tone. Jericho sighed, raised his own hand and clasped Sam's neck.

"I know," he responded.

The men released each other and Anna swept Mercedes, then Sam, into a warm embrace, cuddling the shorter woman tight against herself and just inhaling the sheer, mortal goodness that was Mercedes Jones.

"Welcome to the family," she beamed and Jericho hugged her close and smiled down at her.

"Indeed. Welcome to the clan Mercedes."

While Mercedes felt a little bewildered, she accepted the words with a bright smile and another fond squeeze. Sam still hadn't told her everything – she'd suspected that. In his defence they had been...busy. But when all this bullshit demon business was over that feathered liar Sam Evans was going to get the tongue lashing of his life. She glared the sentiment at him and was answered by a wash of guilt, a touch of shame and more stubbornness than she'd ever thought to find outside the head of a mule.

"_We'll see about that,"_ she thought fiercely.

"Ah! The prodigals return," boomed Bronson as he appeared, suddenly, beside them. Mercedes heard Karofsky make a squeaky, unhappy sound and she sympathised. The Evans clan took some getting used to.

Bronson cuffed Sam on the back of his head and roared with laughter. "Boy you left behind a hellava mess. I haven't had that much fun in decades," he snorted.

Sam was blushing and doing the shamefaced, I'm-so-harmless-and-adorable thing but nobody was buying it. Bronson simply studied the two of them intently and then nodded firmly. He too reached for Mercy and kissed her forehead.

"Welcome child."

"Thank you," she smiled and then stepped beneath Sam's waiting arm, her body complaining that they hadn't touched in nearly 30 seconds now.

"The others are near," warned Jericho, listening for something Mercedes couldn't hear. She watched as the Guardian's shook of the human and allowed their inner warriors to the fore.

"I'll take Dave, Elias and Mercedes to where Stacy and Stevie are," said Anna, already moving towards where Dave and his boy were huddled.

"Sam said I could stay and fight."

"I never said anything of kind," that traitor Sam said, voice rock hard. "You're going with Anna."

"I can shoot. You know I can shoot. I can be your sniper – I never miss."

Sam loomed at her but she ignored him. "I can help you!"

"I don't care – you're not staying." He took her hand and began to lead her to where Anna stood waiting with Dave and Elias. She resisted.

"Sam!"

"We don't have any damn time for this Mercedes! You're going – stop fighting it." With that he dipped and rudely hoisted her over his shoulder, carrying her like a sack of potatoes. She was incandescent with rage but she didn't struggle and she held her tongue till he set her down beside Anna.

"Will they be protected?" he asked the woman and she nodded silently, clearly stifling laughter.

Sam turned to her then, his eyes burning. "I love you," he whispered at the top of her head. She raised her own eyes then, pouring tears.

"Don't make me go."

He kissed the salty tracks and then her trembling lips. "I love you so much."

"I love you too Sammy," she whispered back and then kissed him, long and slow and sweet.

"I'll be coming for you, when it's over. The demons cannot imitate a Guardian unless the Guardian allows them to, so open for nobody but me."

She nodded, chewing her lip, not quite meeting his eyes. Sam smiled a very not nice smile then, put his fingers beneath her chin and tilted her face up. "Mercedes Jones if you come back here to try and help us in this fight I swear on my very old soul that I will give you a hiding that your bottom will never forget."

She drew a startled breath then, glaring indignantly up at him and her mouth ready to unleash an enraged barrage of words when Anna, seeing her moment, gathered her power towards herself and disappeared with the three mortals.


	11. Chapter 11

**Church of the Immaculate Conception, Lima**

Stacy leapt at Mercedes with tears in her eyes, landing lightly then winding her arms and legs around her body. "Mercy!" she shrieked, holding tight and digging her pointy little chin in to the older girl's shoulder. Stevie was not far behind, wrapping his skinny arms as far around her waist as he could, burying his face in her side and clinging hard.

"We were so worried," he said, so softly she almost didn't hear him.

Mercy's heart constricted and she had to take a few deep breaths before answering the children.

"Hey guys – I'm sorry we scared you."

Stacy lifted a tear stained face and still trembling mouth. "It's ok Mercy, we know Sammy didn't have a choice. Mama told us about how the Ancients wanted to take you away."

"Yeah. We're glad Sam didn't let them have you," Stevie chimed in fiercely, scrubbing a hand across his face.

Stacy giggled. "He kicked their dumb assess."

Mercedes laughed with them, squeezing them against herself again and inhaling their little kid smell of shampoo, crushed grass and joy. She was still livid at Sam's stupid, heavy handed ordering around but she was very happy to be with the babies. She'd see them through this – whatever horror was coming she'd be watching over them.

Anna was setting Elias onto the couch and checking the man's temperature and vitals as she did so. He was vaguely awake now, obviously confused, but smiling happily and groggily at Karofsky who settled onto the couch beside him and curved his arms around the older man.

Satisfied that the two were settled Anna walked to Mercy and the children and beckoned them into her arms. She was kneeling and they both leaned into her, arms around her neck. She kissed their cheeks and murmured words that sounded a little like the crooning of doves at twilight. Her eyes were a wet with tears but she blinked those determinedly away and then reached a hand out for Mercy. Mercedes knelt without hesitation, her arms closing the circle that they formed.

"Will you say a prayer for us Mercedes?" asked Anna.

"I – well – yes," Mercedes said. She hadn't been expecting that and terror and worry had wiped eloquence right out of her brain and so she opened her mouth and recited the words she had prayed, every night, since she had been a very little girl.

"O' Angel of God, my Guardian Dear. To whom God's love commits me here. Ever this day be at my side to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen."

As she uttered the words a glow seemed to fill Anna and spill into the two children at her side. The three Guardians looked at her with matching expressions of awe and Stacy couldn't stifle a little sound of joy as the words Mercedes spoke sent a searing jolt of power through them all. The tears she had been holding back finally spilled down Anna's cheeks as she looked at Mercedes. Wings the colour of flame unfurled from her back, mantling with a kind of helpless bliss, while Stacy and Stevie were framed by pure white, downy and already daunting wings. Seeing them all in their true form like that – Mercedes took in a deep, shuddering breath – it felt like being granted the barest glimpse of heaven.

"I – I have not heard that incantation said in many many years," Anna whispered. "Thank you Mercedes for giving us, so wholeheartedly, your love and trust. We will not fail you." With that she rose, the human mantle falling completely away. "This church was built on hallowed ground. The demons cannot enter here unless they are invited in, so you will be safe until we come to release you."

A woman, short and round with silver hair scraped into a bun and thick glasses on her face, walked through the door then. She was carrying three rifles casually over her shoulder and was moving with a purpose and ease that a human woman her age could not achieve. Anna smiled at her and the two embraced briefly before she turned to introduce the Guardian.

"Mercedes, Stacy, Stevie, this is Joanna. She is an elder from Missispi who will be guarding you while we do battle."

"Children," Joanna said, nodding at the three. "I would have preferred to be meeting you all under different circumstances but there is nothing like adventure to bring people together," she drawled cheerily, Southern accent turning her voice to warm, sticky, sugared goodness. Mercedes liked her immediately – she reminded her of her own blunt, warm grandmother.

"A pleasure to meet you too ma'am," the babies said seriously, politely.

"A pleasure Joanna," smiled Mercedes. The old lady looked her over and nodded in a kind of silent approval.

"Can you shoot Mercedes?" she asked beginning to set the weapons down.

"Yes ma'am," the girl declared excitedly, reaching for the heavy firearm Joanna was handing to her.

"These are loaded with rock salt and blessed bullets – they'll tear through those mangy demon bastards like a hot knife through butter. The cowardly slime won't risk too many shots of these so if things get sticky these'll buy us some time."

Anna watched silently as Joanna begun to lay out an array of guns, knives, grenades. Mercedes blinked in astonishment at that and had to grab Stevie's hand as it went with a transfixed kind of glee for one of the grenades.

"Damn!" Mercedes finally laughed, awed by the vast array, and Anna joined her. Joanna peered up at them both from over her glasses, looking for all the world like your run of the mill grandma who knits scarves and embroiders doilies. She winked saucily at them then and said, while gleefully stroking the blade of a jewelled scimitar, "That demon spawn is going to wish it had never left hell."

"Indeed," smiled Anna and with a final kiss and hug to the children and Mercedes, and one last lingering look, she was gone.

"Right children," began Joanna, "let's set up a perimeter and get a real understanding of all entry and exit points of this church. We're going to seal all the windows and doors - Stacy, Stevie your mama says the two of you know how to do that?"

The two little Guardians nodded eagerly.

"Excellent, so that's going to be your first job. Get to it!"

They scrambled off excitedly to the front of the church and began to spell the large front entrance against the power of demons. Joanna watched for a moment to ensure they were getting it right, nodded her satisfaction, and then turned to Mercedes to start sharing out and discussing the rest of their arsenal.

Dave had been watching and listening with fear swelling in his chest and he was thankful that Elias was still so out of it. Something ugly was afoot and it was filling his belly with an icy kind of dread. Dave had spent a very long time running away from things that terrified him. He'd been running away from himself since the year he turned eight and suddenly realised that the hard knot of want in his shorts when he wrestled Scotty Masterson down beneath him was not normal – not right. He'd been running until he'd hit the wall of his ill fated, disastrous attraction to Kurt Hummel and finally stopped running when he ran into Elias. Running never got him anywhere but even more terrified and nearly dead. He was never going to run again. Swallowing down the paralysing fear he cleared his throat and spoke: "I can shoot," he told the backs of the two women.

They turned to him in surprise. He could tell they had sort of forgotten his presence there. "I want to help you put down whatever hurt Elias."

"Good man!" crowed Joanna. "Put a pillow under your boy's head – you can get one out of Father Emmanuel's office – and then get your ass over here. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Dave nodded, suddenly drenched with relief at having something to do, and then rose from Elias's already dozing side to join the bad ass grandma and Mercedes Jones.

Mercedes began loading bullets with black carvings etched into the dull bronze smoothly and efficiently. She looked dangerous and beautiful sitting in the wash of early morning light filtering through the myriad of colours of the stained glass windows. The last time he'd seen her had been as he ran out of prom. She'd been with Sam then too, the blonde holding her back as she glared fiercely at where her friend Kurt was being humiliated. His cheeks burnt with shame at the memory but he smiled tentatively at her anyway. He was different now – stronger than he had been. She beamed back, eyes that bright, beguiling brown that had always sent a twinge of regret through him when he'd slushied her in the school corridors.

"So you and Evans huh?"

She smiled, looking shyly at the gleaming ebony of the rifle. "Yeah."

"Since prom?"

"Sort of. It's been building since then and suddenly we were...whatever this is," she said, laughing softly. "And you and your guy?"

Dave looked back at Elias who was now snoring softly. He was well and truly out of it. He couldn't stop the tender smile that spread across his face as he looked at the man who had been instrumental in saving his life. "Elias. He and I – we've been seeing each other pretty much since I got out of hospital."

"Your dad?"

A sad little smile twisted Dave's lips. "He doesn't know. He's real supportive you know – more than I ever believed he would be. But Elias is – well my Dad wouldn't approve." Dave shrugged. "And I've hurt him enough. E and I – we do what we do just for us. Till I graduate anyway. Then we have plans."

He slid into the pew across from Mercedes, the wood smooth against his palms, cool through the seat of his pants. She calmly handed him a shotgun, hefting the weapon with only a little difficulty. As he reached for it and their eyes met they both laughed – the sound full of nerves and the sheer madness of the situation they found themselves in.

"Who the hell would have imagined that we would be here one day – getting ready to kill demons," said Dave, shaking his head a little as if that would right the world and set it back on its intended, mostly hum-drum course.

"Not me!" Mercedes said a little fiercely. "God has some interesting plans in place – Lord alone knows where we'll be a few hours from now." She finished loading the weapon and clicked the barrel back in place. The gun was ready to fire.

The children were talking excitedly to Joanna as she checked and rechecked their seals on the doors and windows before nodding in satisfaction. "Well done," she said, hugging both youngsters tight and they glowed with pleasure. "Now let's all get something to eat. It's going to be a very long day."

**Steele and Jennings Construction, Lima**

"Why didn't you finish the Bond Samael?"

Sam sighed. He'd known the question was coming but he'd rather hoped that Jericho and Bronson would leave it till after the fight – till after they beat the demons back. Sam turned his neck, letting the bone pop as he rolled the tension out. His wings had flared forth the moment Mercedes had disappeared with Anna, his body fighting the purely unnatural sensation of not having her in touching distance – and they hadn't returned since, the feathers bristling in a kind of agitation. He shook them out once more, trying to get them to settle, but it was useless. A fight was coming and his mate was not at his side. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at the wrongness of that.

"You know why Bronson," he gritted, not in the mood to talk about his decision.

"You're a fool," the old man growled and Sam snarled back, eyes aglitter. "What are you afraid of? That little girl loves you so damn much already! If you die she won't want to live."

"You're wrong –"

"No, you're wrong. You've sold yourself this cock and bull about how she's young and she's a mortal and you're her Guardian and she can't possibly know what she's doing – that her feelings can't possibly be as powerful, as true as yours are for her."

"Bronson I cannot bind her essence to mine! She has scarcely lived. This fight we are going into – we have no guarantee of our survival. If I had finished the Bond my death would mean that she would die too. I could not _bear_ that – I cannot bear the thought of a world without her in it."

"So instead you'll ensure that she lives in a world without _you_ in it?"

The last came from Anna as she walked out of the shadows of the building and to Sam's side. The woman reached a hand out to Sam's face, cradling his cheek in her hand. Her eyes flared blue with a ring of red that matched the awesome span of her wings. "Mercedes will not survive long without you. I have seen this. If you die she will linger but a year and find a way to join you on the other side. You know this Sam. You've felt it and tasted the truth of it on her lips and skin. You have marked her so utterly that the completion of your Bond is at this stage a mere formality. If we live to see the end of this battle – and we will – you _must_ return to her arms and complete the Bond."

Sam swallowed, his heart beating a terrified tattoo in his chest. He didn't want this life for his Mercy. Immortality was hard and human beings were not built for eternity. A Bond with him would tie her lifespan and youth and well being to his but she would still be a human being. He could feel his family around him – Jericho, Bronson, Anna, all lending implacable certainty to the action he had to take if – when – this was all over.

"I will complete the Bond with Mercedes when we have survived this mess and driven the last of the Kin back beyond the veil," he gritted, determined – the beginnings of relief flooding through him as he took the decision every instinct he had had been screaming at him to take.

The mocking laughter and sound of slow, scornful applause jarred Sam and had the Guardians spinning around to face the Ancients who had materialised at their backs. All four of them stood there, gleaming with power, seeming to absorb the grey, cloudy light into their glossy skin and glittering wings, darkness seeming to spread from their shadows. Pulane stood at the fore – shatteringly beautiful and unspeakably powerful. Her wings were the deep blue of the sky at midnight and iridescent scales spilt in a fall of obsidian and red across the long, naked lines of her lean body. She was watching them, silently, her gaze supremely still as it always was. The mocking applause was from Mikhail whose eyes burnt into Sam's with a fierce hatred that the Guardian returned. Mwennin and Sateya flanked Mikhail and Pulane, also eerily still, the only sign of life the taunting sneers curling their lips. Sam's heart sank then because suddenly, with icy certainty, he knew.

"Where are the other Guardians?" asked Jericho, clearly bewildered. "They should have all been here the moment that veil tore. And now it has been an hour and you four are the only ones to arrive."

"The others aren't coming Jericho," said Sam, his eyes leaving Mikhail's and meeting Pulane's depthless stare. He stepped forward, eyes narrowed.

Pulane moved then, with almost unbearable grace, and smiled chillingly at Sam. "No. They are not."

Bronson's shocked exhalation made Sam's skin crawl. The old man had not suspected this kind of treachery – none of them had. It was too immense – too devastating – to contemplate.

"You – You've been," stammered Anna, tears of disbelieving horror falling from her eyes.

"Yes child," said Pulane, her voice falling like honeyed poison. "We are the ones who have been wearing at the veil. We are the ones who have been working with the Kin. We are the ones who have unleashed hell on earth."

Silently, with no warning, Bronson flew at the evil quartet. Mwennin saw him coming and dashed in front of Pulane, unsheathing his weapon but Bronson's momentum drove him into the Ancient, his sword flashed and then descended in a hard arch and down through Mwennin's shoulder, severing his carotid artery in a heavy splatter of blood and separating his head from his shoulders. Sateya screamed, high and piercing and long, the sound tearing at the eardrums, beating at the Guardians around her even as they too dove for the Ancients, swords unsheathed. Pulane grabbed Bronson's shoulder, brutally tackling the older man down to his knees. She remained terrifyingly quiet even as her taloned hand dug into Bronson's right wing and wrenched upwards. Sam, Jericho and Anna watched in speechless horror as she tore the gleaming appendage right from his shoulder blade and threw it to land, with a meaty, unnatural thud, at their feet. The entire, horrifying tableau had taken seconds. Bronson was screaming, had been screaming, but amidst the agonised sounds of pain he roared: "Sam – go to Mercedes! Go!"

Sam's swinging sword froze at the words and with a deep gulp at the blood scented air he allowed his wings to tug him away from the carnage, away from his family, and towards where Mercedes waited.


	12. Chapter 12

**Church of the Immaculate Conception, Lima**

The knock at the church door sent a very startled shock through the six occupants. The grey day outside had been steadily darkening and the clouds outside the rainbow windows were now thick and heavy with rain – lightning beginning to crackle across the sky. Dave had lit the lamps along the walls and Stacy and Stevie had set the candles to flame. This had only succeeded in turning the church into an even more gothic setting for the coming terror and so Mercedes' nerves were completely frayed. When that knock came she just about wet herself and only refrained from screaming because Stacy and Stevie were curled as tight as they possibly could be around her.

"Shit," Dave whispered from where he sat beside her, Elias awake again but still groggy in his arms. Mercedes vigorously echoed this sentiment in her own head, trying to get her heart to stop racing. The thing was her mind kept going back to that thing that had just about eaten her arm off just two nights ago. Just two nights and here she sat trying to pretend she could face an entire legion of those things – when just a minute in the company of _one_ of them had left her half dead. She wasn't proud to admit this but she desperately wanted Sam's arms around her right now.

With a deep breath she took the safety off the gun and handed three others to Stacy and Stevie so that they could hand them to her and reload as she finished the shot the rounds into whatever would be coming through the door.

"It can't be a demon," Dave said. "Demons don't knock."

"Sometimes they do," murmured Joanna as she made her way to the door and looked through the thick glass windows. Something about her posture changed, something that made the muscles in Mercedes' stomach tighten nervously.

"Who is it?" she called, silently ushering the two children behind her. She had told them that if she made that motion they were to go into the confession booth which had a trap door that led down to the cool stone basement where the Communion wine was kept. Both Guardians put the guns onto the pews, wrapped their arms around Elias and began a staggering walk towards the room. She took a deep breath after they shut the door behind them, praying that the premonition and dread winding around her muscles would come to nothing. But she doubted it.

"Joanna, who is it?" she asked the strangely silent woman again, lifting the gun and bracing herself to take the recoil when she unleashed the bullet. Dave followed suit.

"It...it's Mikhail," came Jo's relieved voice at last. She began to unbolt the doors but Mercedes shouted, "Wait! Don't open that!"

Jo paused briefly, clearly surprised, and turned to stare at Mercedes.

"Why ever not child? He is one of the Ancients. He must have volunteered to fight the demons with us and praise the Lord for with him here we will beat the Kin back to hell!"

Mercy shook her head, fear swelling, irrational, into her throat. "Don't! Don't open Jo. Sam said we should only open the doors for him – for him and nobody else. Don't open it!"

"Are you trying to suggest that one of our Ancients would allow any of those filthy creatures to wear his form like some kind of cast off snake skin?"

"Jo I just – "

"No child! Not one of our Ancients could betray us like that. Mikhail will help us – calm yourself."

"Jo! Don't!" Mercy cried but the older woman resolutely unbolted the doors and threw them wide open to let Mikhail in.

He stood at the door, all cocky, smirking good looks, and beamed right at Mercedes.

"Hello little one. We meet again."

Mercy swallowed. "Dave – Dave get into the room with Stacy and Stevie," she whispered.

The boy frowned down at her and stubbornly shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere without you."

"It's me he wants Dave. If you're in there you won't get hurt."

Karofsky just shook his head again, stubbornly staring ahead at Mikhail. "Never. We're in this together."

At the door Mikhail was swaggering smugly towards Joanna. When he reached her tiny, round, silver haired form he pulled her against himself and embraced her. "Thank you sister. You have done us a great service by opening the door."

"Us?" asked Joanna. "Are the other Ancient's with you?" She peered around his shoulder, so horribly, fatally trusting. Mikhail smiled over her rounded little shoulder at Mercedes then, the depth of evil in his eyes turning her insides to ice, and Mercedes knew then that Mikhail had dealt with the devil and the thing holding Joanna was one of the Kin.

"Jo it's a demon!" she began to scream, grabbing Karofsky's arm and shoving him towards the confessional. But it was too late.

The thing opened its mouth – Mikhail's mouth – and revealed that terrible, jagged maw before sinking its teeth into Jo's poor shoulder and pulling off a mouthful of flesh and bone. Joanna's agonised shriek was a signal of some sort because even before the echoes of her cry had faded away a white, writhing hoard began to push its way through the church door – hissing and wailing where they fought through and broke the seals Steveie and Stacy had so painstakingly laid against them.

With blind terror thumping through her Mercedes turned away from where the creatures were tearing at Joanna, desperately blocking the sounds and the cries even as tears poured down her face, and fled to where Stacy, Stevie and Dave held the door open for her, their hands reaching towards her. She never made it.

**Church of the Immaculate Conception, Lima**

Sam tucked and rolled with the precious cargo in his arms, feeling Mercedes' terror keenly as she curled her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. He rose to his feet in one smooth move, his wings snapping behind him, propelling them both into the air and away from the churning, poisonous spawn below. He swooped low again and barrelled through the door where the little Guardians and Karofsky were still standing frozen in terror. In one motion he kicked the door shut behind him, allowed Mercedes' feet to touch ground and blasted a potent seal of pure power through the door and into the writhing Kin just beyond it.

"Sammy!" sobbed the children, skinny arms tight around every part of him they could reach. He gathered them into himself and gently kissed their golden crowns, breathing them in.

"We're ok guys. We're going to be fine. That seal has bought us some time and I'm going to contact the rest of the Guardians and they'll come and we'll beat the Kin back. I swear it," he whispered harshly, trying to swallow his heart as it hammered at his gullet.

"But Sammy I thought all the Guardians were gathering at the site of the tear. I thought the Ancients and – "

Sam looked up at Mercedes and pulled her in against himself again, burying his nose in the soft crease of her neck. "The Ancients have been working with the Kin. They are the reason the veil has torn," he breathed, her scent washing peace through him, letting clarity seep back in.

"That's why that thing..."

"Was wearing Mikhail's form. Yes. They are helping the Kin and God alone knows why."

"And the others? Anna? Jer – "

"I must summon the other Guardians. Pulane has ... blocked them somehow. All the Guardians earthside should have been alerted the moment the veil tore but they weren't – they still don't know. I need to send out a summons and call them all here. We are all in danger and we cannot defeat the Ancients and the Kin alone."

"An' Moma? Papa?" came Stevie's small voice, his big blue eyes brimming with tears.

Sam wrapped a large, blood smeared hand around the child's neck. "She and Jericho are holding them off for us so we must hurry. We are going to do everything we can to make sure that they come back to us safe."

Mercedes wrapped her hand around Sam's bicep, her other palm drifting down his forearm till she could wind her fingers around his. "Let's get going then," she said and placed a trembling kiss on his lips. "It's time to set things straight."

**Steele and Jennings Construction, Lima**

They were still alive, barely. Bronson was bleeding out fast – his remaining wing standing out at an unnatural angle from his body, broken where Pulane had ruthlessly twisted it, while the bloody stub of the other kept trying to twitch upwards, jerking his entire body with the futile motion. He was unconscious – had been for some time now, and his heart beat was slowing. Jericho had been stabbed twice, his intestines had been pierced and Anna could feel the poison from his belly steadily polluting his blood.

She took a breath and moaned quietly as it sent dizzying shards of pain through her body. She had a long, deep, sluggishly bleeding wound just beneath her heart and her right knee was shattered, bone sticking – white and crimson and sickening – through her skin. Jericho was leaning heavily against her, drawing strength from their Bond and she was grateful for the small mercy of his laboured breath in her ear. If they were mortal they would all be dead but, for some reason, the three remaining Ancients were keeping them alive. Anna didn't want to think about why. She was so tired.

Pulane was speaking furiously and viciously to Mikhail while the other Ancient was gesturing violently back at her. Sam's disappearance and Mwennin's surprisingly easy demise had clearly thrown their plans off. Sateya now sat, in the pool of blood around the fallen Ancient, cradling his severed head in her lap and keening long and low, over and over again. The sound was unearthly – and if she wasn't a back stabbing, murdering psychopath Anna would have felt sorry for her.

Life was so bizarre, Anna thought to herself. Centuries could go by in mostly silent sameness and then suddenly, near Apocalyptic disaster would strike. A smile curled her bruised lips and split the skin anew. Her babies were safe though. She knew Sam would keep them safe come hell or high water. Or back stabbing, scum eating Ancients.

Pulane and Mikhail had just begun to fade into the welcoming, black haze of unconsciousness when the Kin came, drenched in the blood of a Guardian. She could smell it on them, see it in the off white glow of their satisfied, bulging, flesh. "Joanna," she whispered the name as a grief stricken prayer. Joanna had been taken, devoured, but she could scent no other blood amidst their foulness – only Jo's. She could tell the moment Pulane and Mikhail scented the blood, saw Mikhail's face go white with horror. A man, in the same form as Mikhail's, rose like a pustule from the general tentacled swarm of magotty whiteness and moved towards the two Ancients, his eyes flickering hungrily over Mwennin's fallen body and the three heavily bleeding Guardian's bound to the chain link fence.

"You were not meant to eat the flesh of the Guardian! No Guardian was meant to be harmed!" gritted Pulane at the demon.

The many eyed, many limbed mass of evil swarming behind the Mikhail shaped demon heaved and snarled – the sound of nightmares and slaughterhouses – in response to her rage.

"You promised us feasting! You promised us flesh! So far we have supped on nothing but your promises and they are poor fare indeed," smirked not-Mikhail, joints bulging and shifting as it began to lose its hold on the Ancient's shape.

"Silence worm!" roared Pulane – her wings snapping like the sound of thunder behind her. The demon cowered helplessly and took a staggering, fearful step back. "You will eat when I tell you you can eat. You will eat only what I tell you you can eat because if you do not I will send you back to the cesspool you sprang from and seal the veil so tight that you and all your kind will not even be able to imagine the scent of manflesh let alone have the _gall _to feast on the blood of a _Guardian_!"

She took another step closer to the demon, her finger touching its face and tilting its chin up towards her. Where her flesh met his it burnt – the acrid, rotten smell rising even as the demon began to wail in terror. "Your task was to bring us the mortal girl and you failed in that. So I suggest you shut your ugly mouth and get out there and find her!" she spat.

"We have found her," the demon hissed sullenly, staggering back away from her searing touch, mishappen hands clawing at the leaking wound in its not-face. "She is with her mate and they are within a warded ring. We cannot penetrate it without your help. Samael – he is summoning the other Guardians."

"Gods damn it!" shouted Mikhail. "You should have let me kill that ridiculous young upstart centuries ago."

"Calm yourself Mikhail," snapped Pulane. "Now is not the time for your histrionics. We must stop him and secure the mortal. Gather the prisoners – we're leaving."

The demon, which was shedding Mikhail's form in a long, steady drip of rancid flesh that set Anna's stomach a-churning, began a rapid stagger towards the battered Guardians. Anna steeled herself for the very certain agony they were about to go through. Being eaten alive had never been at the top of her list of ways to die.

Pulane voice pierced the moment once more as the toxic creature reached out a long, taloned claw towards where Bronson was still, miraculously, breathing. It snatched the oozing, septic appendage back against itself and cowered away from her rage as she stormed it on long, elegant legs. "You will not _touch_ another Guardian – do you understand? All of you!" Her voice fell like the crack of a whip and the demon and it's still writhing, horrifically undefined cohort, reluctantly backed away from the bleeding Guardians.

With a sneer at the cowering nightmares Mikhail made his way to the Guardians. His eyes, as they moved over them, were full of hatred and Anna knew that the only reason they had not become meat for the Kin was because Pulane did not allow it. Left to Mikhail – she shuddered. Left to Mikhail they would be dead by now. She wandered, idly as consciousness faded to black, what they had done to deserve the hate that was gleaming like a dull and rusted, blood-smeared blade in his eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hummel Household, Lima**

Kurt Hummel was P.I.S.S.E.D _pissed_! That elusive, sneaky little bitch called Mercedes Jones had been MIA for two days now – _two whole days_! She was supposed to call him after dinner with Sam and his family but he had heard _nothing_. He'd been calling her phone and her house non-stop but there was just dead air on her side and he was beginning to get seriously worried. He'd just phoned Mike Chang to get Sam's number from him and his stomach plummeted when all he got was Sam's goofy voicemail message.

"I'm sure she's fine Kurt," came Blaine's mellow tones. "They probably just got distracted."

Kurt whirled on his boyfriend, two dark red spots of colour high on his cheek bones. "Distracted Blaine? Really?" he snapped.

Blaine smirked at him, slowly, sinfully, from where he lay draped across Kurt's bed and raised a thick, mocking brow. "Yeah. Distracted. Like we were 10 minutes ago."

Kurt flushed an even deeper red and bit his lip, eyeing Blaine's bare chest and the purpling hickey just beneath his collar bone. "Dammit Blaine! Put a shirt on!" he complained. "How'm I supposed to think with you lying there looking...like that?"

Blaine chuckled and sat up, reaching out a hand to his agitated boyfriend. With a deeply put upon sigh Kurt curled his fingers around Blaine's and allowed himself to be tugged back onto the rumpled bed. Blaine's skin was warm, living satin beneath Kurt's fingers. His lips tasted like the snicker doodles they had been snacking on and the strength of his embrace had Kurt hard so fast he felt lightheaded. Blaine's fingers unsnapped Kurt's jeans and wriggled into his sexy black Calvin Klein's to wrap around his slender dick. "I love your cock," Blaine whispered hoarsely against Kurt's ear.

"You better!" Kurt gasped. "Cos it's the prettiest cock you've ever set eyes on."

They both laughed softly against the wet slick of each other's lips and thrust against each other – playfully, helplessly. Blaine moaned as Kurt's narrow hips ground fiercely against his and –

"Oh my God what are you two doing?" The horrified squawk came from Finn who was standing in the doorway gawping at the two of them.

Blaine and Kurt scrambled apart, Blaine landing on the floor with a thump, while Kurt shrieked, "What the fuck Finn! You can't knock? Jesus!"

"I'm sorry – seriously Kurt," he said sheepishly, his broad back turned on the two lovers as Blaine quickly slid back into his shirt and Kurt buttoned his jeans. "It's just that – Sam and Mercedes are here and they have Dave Karofsky with them."

"What?" Kurt blinked then scrambled off the bed, shoved past his lumbering giant of a brother, and raced down the stairs. "Mercedes where have you been?" he demanded, rushing towards his best friend and pulling her into a tight hug. "I was so worried about you!"

Mercedes wound her arms tight around him and squeezed. Her hugs had always been intense but there was something about this embrace that had alarm bells going off in Kurt's head. He pulled back slightly and then examined her face – noting the exhausted shadows beneath her eyes and the puffy, rid eyelids. She'd been crying and she was tired and Kurt's gaze immediately lept to the tall blonde behind her.

"What's wrong? Why have you been crying? Sam?"

"Kurt I need your help," she whispered, keeping her voice low so that his parents, who were watching television in the lounge, could not hear her.

Kurt nodded, shaken by the urgency in her voice. He had known that something was off the moment he opened his eyes that morning. That's why he hadn't been too charmed when Blaine had insisted on coming over. But once the other boy was there with him he was grateful that they were together. There had been a heaviness to the air and he knew he wasn't the only one who sensed it, but now that Sam and Mercedes were on his doorstep, with Karofsky, a security guard and Sam's little brother and sister – and none of them were exactly looking cheery – every instinct in Kurt's body was screaming: _"Run!"_

"Hey Sam, 'Cedes! What's going on?" asked Blaine as he finally made it down the stairs, Finn at his heels.

"Hey man," Sam said, greeting the shorter boy. "We're in a bit of a bind and we need your help."

"Should I – do I need to get my parents?"Kurt asked.

Mercedes stepped back against Sam till she was flush against his chest. Stacy was perched on Sam's right hip while Stevie had a tight grip on his hand. Karofsky and the security guard were leaning against the closed door looking...diminished. They were all looking really rough. Mercedes looked up at Sam and they seemed to speak, silently for just a moment. She met Kurt's eyes again and then nodded. "Yeah. I think we need to talk to your whole family."

"I'll get them," Finn said, the sense of fear and urgency in Sam and Mercedes' faces spurring all of them into the living room where Burt and Carol Hummel were cuddled together watching Maid in Manhattan. Mercedes couldn't help the beam of joy that wriggled through her. These two always made her smile – their affection and love for each other infectious.

"Mom," Finn said and Carol turned, surprised at the little crowd in the entry way.

"What's going on boys?" Burt asked, rising from his seat.

"We need your help Mr Hummel. My parents are in trouble – we're all in trouble." Burt blinked at Sam in amazement and Carol rose to stand beside her husband, exchanging a confused look with him.

"What on earth - ?" Burt began but without any further comment Sam unfurled the daunting span of his wings and curled them over the shocked humans. They seemed enormous in the room, blocking the light from the hallway, otherworldly and shockingly beautiful. Blaine made a slightly strangled sound and then sat down hard on the floor, blinking rapidly. Kurt dropped to his knees beside him, breathless at the sight.

"No. Fucking. Way!" gasped Finn.

"We do not have much time. I need you to watch over my brother and sister, and provide sanctuary for Dave and Elias until we have beaten back the foe that threatens us all. There is no time for explanation – and I am sincerely sorry for that – but please trust us. We would not involve you if we didn't have to."

Sam the 17 year old school boy was gone. He was entirely inhuman, immortal, deadly Guardian and the ages he had seen shone from his eyes and resonated in his voice, planting the seeds of fear and trust in the hearts of the human beings around him.

"I – yes ofcourse. Ofcourse leave them here. We'll watch over them while you - um..." said Carol, reaching for the children.

"Thank you Carol – thank you so much," said Mercedes, voice hoarse with tears.

Stevie and Stacy went to Burt and Carol reluctantly. They weren't human but they were children and the events of the past days had taken a heavy toll. They drooped visibly as Sam detached their slender limbs from around his neck and waist and Stacy began to sob – soft and desolate.

"We'll be back guys – and we'll bring Anna and Jay and Bronson back with us," Sam whispered as he held them close, their choked sobs breaking his heart. Stacy wrapped herself around Mercedes then and Stevie joined suit, pressing themselves into the yield of her comforting body. She rocked them for a moment, crooning words of comfort into their ears, feeling their pain keenly for it was her own and it was Sam's. With a last, shuddering breath, the children stepped out of her embrace and tucked themselves against Carol.

"Bring Mercy back too," Stevie said solemnly to Sam, wiping fiercely at his face. The older Guardian nodded.

"I will. I'm not coming back without her."

**Mitchell's Farm, Outside of Lima**

Mitchell's Farm had belonged to John and Irma Saunders for 50 years and they had saturated the land with love and laughter for half a century. The couple had never had children however and so, when they passed, they had left the land to the Trees for Life Foundation who had turned it into a botanical garden. A big, shimmering, naturally formed lagoon lay at the very centre of the property surrounded by tall, green trees and fragrant grasses. The young people of Lima swam there in the depths of summer, shedding even more shimmering joy into the air around them. The land was a font of natural energy – one of the pulse points of the earth – and it was here that Sam and Mercedes came to summon the Guardians.

"So exactly how does this work?" Mercedes asked as she watched Sam casually begin to strip on the banks of the deep, cool water. The sun was still stubbornly buried behind the embankment of solid grey clouds so the light there was was soft, limning his stark gold and ebony beauty in pale light. He hadn't been wearing much to begin with and the soft, old hoodie – blood spattered now – and his worn jean hit the ground quickly. Mercedes was left with a dry mouth and soaking wet crotch. She didn't even know why she was shocked at her body because this seemed to be its natural state when Sam Evans was in the vicinity.

He shot her a wicked, smug look before stepping out of his puddled pants and swaggering, slowly, towards her. His cock was hard, curving thick and proud against the solid ridges of his belly and all she could remember was the feeling of his long, lean body rocking over her and into her; the fall of his hair cool against her skin; the golden fuzz dusting his entire body an endless torment against her painfully sensitive flesh.

"Er –" she began but the crush of his lips silenced her, his mouth gliding slick and easy over hers, stealing her breath. His big hands dove into the back of her leggings, cupping her ass, squeezing at the flesh, parting the globes and dipping his fingers into the damp, searing flesh there, making her womb throb fiercely, making moisture gush – thick, slick – down her inner thighs.

"Off!" he hissed, pulling the poor, abused pants down her legs and leaving her bare to the air. He dragged the top she wore up and over her head and then pulled the lacy cups of her bra down so that they tilted her big, hard tipped breasts right up into the grasping pull of his lips and teeth. She moaned, clutching his head close and trying to stay on her feet even as her knees buckled at the dragging sensation that his mouth on her breast ripped from her pussy. He lifted her then, ridiculously easy, and impaled her on his dripping cock, biting hard at the arch of her neck as she sank down and down and down, sobbing his name into the air, clawing at the bulge of his shoulders, fingernails digging into his back and neck.

"Sam! Sammy!" she moaned, keening high and thin as he fucked into her, loved her inside out. He dropped to his knees then, the water rising to meet them as he held her perched on his lap, legs tight around his waist and pussy squelching wet and nasty as he thrust and thrust and thrust, drunk on her pleasure. She came suddenly – the pleasure exploding through her – setting her mewling and gasping, hoarse and ragged and desperate. Sam lay her down, the water lapping chill and delicious at her back and neck and soaking heavily through her hair, and kept fucking into her, dragging another brutal orgasm from her clenching cunny. He dropped his arms to either side of her, caging her arching, trembling body in the hard, hot bulge of his arms, and sobbed her name like a prayer. He thrust once, twice more, ragged – unthinking – and came long and loudly into the milking, steamy confines of her body.

They lay there, gasping against each other's mouths, her arms locked around his neck, coming down from the shattering pleasure and finally Mercedes gasped: "Sam, what in the actual fuck was that?"

He huffed a laugh and sat up, with her still in his lap, cock still buried inside her, and grinned.

"That, my sweet, sweet Mercy, was the summoning."

She blinked at him in amazement and then got a nasty, shocky jolt as she heard somebody from not too far behind them clear their throat.

"Samael? You rang?"


	14. Chapter 14

Dead. The boy was dead. She was going to kill him and she was going to do it slowly. She was going to look into his eyes and laugh as she killed him because Sam Evans had gone too far – too damn far! There were what looked like a few million Guardians standing on the banks of the lagoon, all looking terribly amused and not a single one of them even the least bit shy or embarrassed about watching her and Sam doing the nasty. Perverts, they were all perverts – she decided as Sam lifted her from the water and tucked her naked, dripping form against his body, his right wing curling forward and offering her protection from the frank and gleefully lecherous faces of the other Guardians.

The man who had spoken earlier was grinning hard at Sam. He was insanely, ridiculously good looking. He was tall and broad, thick muscled, dark skin and dimples framing a handsome face. "It's good to see you Samael," he said, laughter threading through every syllable. "Life has obviously shone great favour on you in the past while."

Sam had the audacity to laugh and Mercedes glared absolute daggers at him, digging her nails threateningly into his biceps. He winced a little and then darted a sheepish look down at her. "Hello Araver. It's damn good to see you."

He reached out his left hand and the other man grasped it, and then his forearm. Laughing, they touched foreheads, hands clasped tight around each other's forearms in greeting.

"You too Sammy – you too. Even though the circumstances are not ideal. There hasn't been a summoning in a 1000 years. What's gone wrong?"

Sam's face sobered and he looked around at the waiting faces of the assembled Guardians. "The Ancients have betrayed us," he began bluntly. His words sent a ripple of shock through the small crowd around them and a murmuring of voice rose like rustling leaves. "They have sided with the Kin. They have torn the veil and are trying to unleash hell on earth."

"You speak blasphemy!" began an older man dressed, oddly, in his pyjamas. "We would have felt the veil tear – we would have been summoned by something that catastrophic!"

"I wish it was blasphemy Sinethemba. Demons walk among us now and the Ancients set them up on us. They had blocked you all from feeling the tear and they will have sensed the summoning too. We have little time to prepare before they are upon us."

As he spoke Araver handed Mercedes her leggings and top and she wriggled quickly into the damp garments. There was no attention focused on her anymore – all of the Guardians looked as if they had been electrocuted.

"The Ancients are the strongest amongst us," said Araver into the heavy silence that filled the little clearing.

Mercedes looked around at all their faces. The Guardians felt as humans did – often more deeply because they knew what was at risk – they knew what horrors were coming and they knew what would be lost if the Ancient's succeeded. But she didn't see fear on their faces – faces that were wiped clean of humanity now and chiselled with power. She saw grief.

"We have no choice," she said, startling even herself because she had had no intention of saying a thing. All their faces turned to her, tenderness in their gazes now.

"And what do you know if it little one?" asked Araver, face even more starkly beautiful in its sheer lack of humanity.

Sam's arms curled tighter against her, his mouth buried in the hair at the crown of her head, breathing her in. "I know because I am mortal. Mortality means living to the best of our ability, everyday, with no clue of what lies before us and nothing but intangible feelings to assure us that we are on the right path – that we have purpose. It means living because life is beautiful and terrifying and brief. It means fighting to protect that life – bleeding to protect it. Dying to protect it."

Araver nodded and a murmur of ascent swept through the gathering. "We are ready. We will fight," he said, voice as gravel.

He turned away from the two and faced the rest of the Guardians. His voice boomed through the clearing, deeper and louder, reaching all those gathered there. "Any Guardian that does not wish to fight is free to leave – right now. You will not be judged and no matter the outcome we will not hold your actions against you."

He paused a moment and silence fell on the Guardians yet again. Not a single one of their number made a move to leave. Another breathless second past, then another, and then with a soundless explosion of power the Guardians unleashed their wings. Mercedes gasped at the throb of power, goose bumps prickling across her entire body, emotion thick in her throat. "Now we go to war," she whispered. Sam spun her around in his hold and cupped her cheek. His lips descended and grazed her forehead, her cheekbone and then suckled tenderly at her lips.

"You need to hide."

"Boy don't even come at me with that bullshit!""

"I'm going to send you back to the Hummels and - "

"If you do that Sam I'll just get in Kurt's car and drive right back. I'm staying with you – I'm fighting with you and there is nothing you can say or do to stop me this time," she said fiercely, eyes afire.

"Mercedes - "

"Fuck you very much Evans!" she hissed and shoved out of his embrace and stomped towards Araver. "I need a weapon – arm me," she demanded and the Guardian, after tossing an amused smirk over her shoulder at Sam, pulled a silver pistol from the small arsenal he seemed to have strapped to his back and handed it to Mercedes.

"It's spelled. You never need to reload and its bullets will never miss a target that intends you harm. You know how to use it?"

She looked up from her wandering examination of the weapon and nodded, "Yes. Thank you." Araver smiled down at her, amber eyes crinkling attractively. Gosh he was pretty!

"Uhum!" Sam, clearing his throat in irritation, curled his huge hand around her arm. "Araver, you have no business arming my mate."

"I'm not going anywhere Sam so it's either I'm armed or I'm dead," snapped Mercedes.

The two lovers glared at each other, Sam's hands grasping warm and firm around her shoulders. Just as Mercedes stubbornly flicked the safety off the heavy weapon and Sam's face became thunderous a scream filled the air, piercing and terrifying. They all three spun in the direction of the cry and were met with the horror of the squirming, maggoty mass of demon spawn spilling into the clearing, the Ancients at their head. Mira, one of the younger Guardians, born a mere century ago, lay bleeding and wounded at Mikhail's feet – her severed wing clutched in his bloody hand while his signature smirk was out in full force. There was a beat of drowning horror as the other Guardians absorbed the true magnitude of the Ancient's betrayal.

Araver's bellow of rage shattered the moment, his wings beating at the air like great, rolling echoes of the thunder as he barrelled into Mikhail's blood splattered chest. The steel clang of their swords meeting jerked the others out of their paralysis and the battle was on.

Sam bent to place his lips at the curve of Mercedes' neck, whispering fiercely, "I will fight here, beside you. Stay close to me Mercy-mine." She nodded, wide eyed, and took a deep breath. Sam released her and unsheathed his glittering blade. He placed a last, lingering kiss on her lips and then spun, with a roar, to pierce at the demon horde already at his back.

**Mitchell's Farm, Outside of Lima**

Bronson was swimming in and out of consciousness, bleeding sluggishly from the ruin that used to be his wing. He had known pain in his lifetime walking the planet but he had never felt anything as searing, as final, as the agony he felt in his severed limb. The wings of the Guardian's were not merely decoration, or weapons, they were in fact the tangible manifestations of their souls. It was impossible to destroy them with mortal blades or weapons – the Ancients were using sacred steel found only in the depths of hell. Bronson couldn't even begin to contemplate what deal they had struck with Lucifer in order to secure those weapons and wield them on this mortal plane.

He took a deep breath, shoving the horror of what had been done to him to the back of his mind for now, dulling the screaming of his butchered soul till he could see – try to see – where Anna and Jericho were – where Sam was. He blinked the blood from his eyes slowly, moving his fingers tentatively across his face to wipe at the sticky crusting. Light slowly filtered through as he focused on where they were and the green, fresh sounds of outside and wilderness sank in.

They were in a clearing somewhere, beneath the heaviest, darkest thicket of trees. Anna and Jericho were hemmed in by the oozing, writhing, form of demon-blob but he had been cast to the side, out of the guarded circle. They were obviously not expecting him to cause any trouble. They were so wrong.

The sounds of battle, the clanging of swords and explosion of bullets echoed in the very near distance. Sam, it seemed, had successfully summoned the other Guardians. Bronson's spirits lifted slightly. They had a chance then. A slim chance, but a chance. He just couldn't let Pulane get her hands on Mercedes.

He lifted his head slowly from the ground and saw Pulane. She was standing behind the attacking horde, her gaze fixed on something. Bronson guessed her eyes were on Mercedes. Time was short then. If they got the girl then all was lost. He watched her as she began to gather her power around herself, preparing to jump to where the mortal fought and with a deep, shuddering breath, Bronson desperately clutched the last, lingering strands of his own magic towards him and leapt time and space in her wake. He landed hard on the ground, just in time to see her lift that blade, just in time to see Samael turn to face her – eyes wide, skin dripping ichor – but still too late. Far too late. She sent the blade right through his belly and up. Then she twisted it, face still and sorrowful as he hung from the sword, blood bubbling at the corners of his lips. Mercedes' scream was the sound of a thousand nightmares – of every horror and lost love that had ever been betrayed in the lifespan of the world.

She was leaping for Pulane, bullets spurting fire from her weapon and he watched in astonishment as two tore into the Ancient murderer's shoulder and wing, throwing Pulane off of Sam. Araver ran to the fallen Sam, crouching before his friend and advancing on the fallen Pulane. Mercedes' bullets and Araver's presence had just bought them some critical time. Clearly the Guardian's had a few secret weapons of their own, he thought in faint amusement and surprise and then grabbed the girl's leg and jerked her down so that she fell against him, already fighting like a wildcat, shrieking high and inhuman, tears pouring from her eyes.

"Child! Child we have but a moment!" he said, holding her tight against him, forcing her hysterical, crazed gaze to his.

"Sam!"she sobbed, straining towards her fallen love.

"Listen to me now and you will save him!" he hissed urgently and finally she relented, turning wild, wet eyes to him.

Bronson grabbed her small hand and, using the edge of the crucifix around his neck, sliced long and deep into the tender meat of her wrist. She gasped slightly, looking shocked at the blood spurting forth. There was so much of it – hot and wet – and her fragile mortality was just so evident in that moment

"Your Bond is the only thing that will save him Mercedes. You must complete the Bond. Take your blood and mix it with his. Put your hand over his wound and say these words: Beyond when we are dust and our souls as the stars, you are blood of my blood and breath of my breath. Do you understand?"

She nodded, scrambling free of Bronson's hold and staggering, dizzy to where Sam lay gasping and shuddering in the vividly green grass.

"Araver!" Bronson called with the last of his strength. Blackness was licking at the edges of his vision and death breathed soft, sweet, warm and beckoning against the nape of his neck. He wanted to go with her – he wanted to go now – but he had to do one more thing. Just one more. Araver was fighting the bleeding but still determined Pulane and the Ancient was hacking fiercely at the man, her face fixed in a still, implacable mask. . "Mercedes is the Immaculate Conception reborn – do not let them take her!"

He sensed the wave of shock his words sent through the fighting Guardians and the demons spawn both and Pulane's snarl of rage was like music to his ears. With a last, slightly smug smile, Bronson surrendered himself to the eternal summer grasp of death and was no more.

**Mitchell's Farm, Outside of Lima**

__ – no just hurt! _He was just hurt_. Sam was bleeding and she was going to fix it – she was going to fix him. He lay there, his body arching in agony as the wound in his belly bled and bled and bled. The blade had some kind of poison on it as the skin around the gaping redness was turning black and blistering crimson, suppurating puss as if it were a week old instead of just minutes. It smelt too – it smelt horribly of sulphur and rot as if he were putrefying inside out. Without hesitation Mercedes shoved her spurting wrist deep into the weeping flesh, her blood pouring into his, her tears dripping onto his face creased in pain. She rested her forehead on his, breathlessly kissing his hot, dry, cracked lips. His eyes snapped open suddenly, the black pupil enormous and thinly ringed with emerald.

"Mercy," he gasped, "Mercy what are you doing?"

"Finishing the Bond," she whispered, pressing her bleeding wrist deeper into his wound.

"No," he moaned. "_Nonono_! I'm too far gone. It will kill you."

She laughed softly. "And you think I have any interest in living in a world without you?"

"No Mercedes please – I'm begging you!"

"Shut up Evans," she muttered, biting his lower lip hard, and then she began the incantation. He tried to buck her off her perch across his thighs by arching his hips hard but she clung to him with her knees and kept whispering the words Bronson had told her – determined and relentless. "_Beyond when we are dust and our souls as the stars, you are blood of my blood and breath of my breath_."

Sam shouted, fury and ecstasy both coursing through his body as the fledgling bond sealed shut and twined their bodies and minds and souls together, irrevocably. Mercedes screamed, short and sharp, as a mirror of the wound in his belly tore open in her own – just smaller, already on the way to healing. The skin of his wrist split and then began to knit shut till the deep cut Bronson had made was just a raised, reddened scar that looked days old. Light, dense light, gold and crimson both, swirled between them, within them, around them. It was like drinking bottle after bottle of crisp white wine in the blazing sunshine and they were both drunk from the searing, soaring pleasure and pain of their Bond establishing itself. Sam drew her down and took her gasping mouth in a rough, wet kiss, drinking her in, feeling her inside every cell of his body. Sensation echoed between them, ricocheting from him to her, till they could barely tell who was feeling or thinking what – it was just a blur of sensation. They were one – now and forever.

"Sam Evans you are such a fucking liar," Mercedes muttered crossly, surprising a laugh out her mate. "When this is all over you're going to tell me every last fucking thing and if you don't I will hunt through your brain for it!"

He winced at the imagery, knowing that now it was possible, and placed a hasty kiss on her cross mouth. "I promise that when we have sent these fuckers back to hell I will tell you everything."

Smug satisfaction drifted across the Bond from her to him and with a grin he stood, her legs falling from around his waist, and reached for his fallen sword. As he rose he swung his sword in a broad arch and, with a sound that sent a shock through Mercy's body, his sword met Pulane's, halting the killing blow she was about to deal to a fallen Araver.

The beautiful Ancient snarled at Sam, rage sparking from her eyes. "The girl is not yours! She will be the mother of our Lord!"

Sam sneered, "Never!"

"Lucifer awaits her Samael. Your puny strength will not withstand his will."

"Yes it will bitch!" Mercedes shouted. Pulane paused for an instant, staring in surprise at the mortal who had somehow managed to creep in behind her. That instant of frozen motion sealed Pulane's fate and with rage flaming in her beautiful eyes Mercedes pulled the trigger and watched as the bullet drilled its way through Pulane's head and exploded in blood, bone and brain on the other end. Mikhail shouted, hoarse and pained, as he looked up in time to watch Pulane crumple. His blade sliced a Guardian's head clean off and, after the shoving the body away from himself, he made to dash to her side.

Araver and Sam leapt forward to meet him and Mercedes started emptying another of her guns, an ordinary one, into the swarming mass of demons, clearing a way for the avenging Guardians. Before they reached Mikhail however, Sateya dropped the Guardian she had been battling to the ground and landed beside him. She then calmly, blankly, stabbed a dark silver dagger into the hollow of his neck. Mikhail made a gurgling sound of surprise – staring at her in wide eyed shock. His arms clutched at her, trying to bat weakly at her hands, at the blade, but to no avail. Sateya dragged the knife down, splitting him open neck to navel, and then stabbed the blade beneath his rib cage and into his heart.

It all happened in seconds. Once Mikhail dropped, lifeless, she turned to the now motionless demon spawn and whispered, "_Be gone_." Like snails shrivelling beneath salt they withered, shrieking and moaning and roaring as they went. The stench they left behind was of a thousand open graves, of sewers and filth and old, old blood. Where they had stood the earth lay bleached and barren.

Sateya fell to her knees then, glorious purple hued wings drooping around her as bitter tears drifted down her face. She looked around at the ruin and blood, her eyes meeting those of the Guardians left standing. There was less than half the original number left.

"I am sorry," she murmured, still and quiet. "We thought…we _knew_ that the Gods had betrayed us. We knew what Lucifer knew – that we are_ not_ Their chosen. And we thought we would help our kind if we … if we set free our fallen brother. We were wrong. I am sorry." And then they all watched in exhausted, trembling, shocked silence as she set herself aflame and burnt to ash without another sound leaving her lips.

**Epilogue**

The night was warm, dark and velvety – fragrant and humming with green life. Sam was leaning against the carved wooden headboard over his bed and Mercedes lay slumped against his chest, cradled in the V of his legs. They were both exhausted, washed clean of blood, sweat and battle but the fear and horror had not quite faded – wouldn't fade for a long time.

After Sateya's surprise betrayal of Mikhail and her subsequent immolation the shattered Guardians had cleansed the clearing, lifted the grimy residue left by the evil and death that had taken place there. The dust left by the Guardians who had perished – glittery, light stuff that drifted on the wind and smelt of sweet grass – helped those left standing to banish the darkness utterly. The place was now a sacred sink, magic in the air, the soil and water.

Sam's arms tightened around Mercy's waist and he placed a kiss on her neck, like he had been doing steadily throughout the evening.

The house was dark around them. Anna and Jericho were healing and the children slept on a cot in their parent's room, the little family curled around each other in desperate relief and exhausted slumber. Mercy's mom was arriving home tomorrow. She would never know what had happened. She would never know that her daughter had been instrumental in saving the world from hell on earth.

"So they wanted me to give birth to the anti-Christ?" Mercedes asked, voice filled with disbelief.

"Yes," replied Sam.

"Because I was born without Original Sin?"

"You are the Immaculate Conception."

"I don't feel very Immaculate Sam. I feel plenty sinful I've got to tell you. And my mom baptised me!"

Sam huffed a soft laugh and sucked a kiss into her shoulder. "In your case baptism wasn't necessary."

"Well shit," Mercedes said a little wonderingly. "So now that we're Bonded?"

Sam turned her in his arms, his easy strength sending a pang of want to her core. "Now the only child you will be bringing into this world will be mine," he whispered fiercely, taking the opportunity to kiss her long and lingering. When their lips parted Mercedes said, "I can feel the way you feel when you kiss me."

Sam nodded, forehead to hers and smiled at her. "That's the Bond. I can – I can block it a bit from my side so that - "

"Oh hell no! Don't you dare! I love this – I love having you like a passenger in my head and my heart. I feel – full. Like I've had a real meal for the first time in my whole life. I can't – I don't want to lose this feeling Sam. I never want to stop feeling you – stop feeling this way."

"_Shhhh_. You won't. I'll always be here and when we die we die together."

She nodded, relief flowing through her, relaxing her body against his. Her eyes began to droop and he kissed each tender eyelid, sliding them down and under the covers, pillowing her head on his chest. He drifted awhile, listening to her breath deepen and then her snoring begin. He grinned into the darkness, joy and grief both thick in his throat.

"Thank you Bronson," he whispered into the night then rolled over and tucked her tighter against his body, her slumber pulling him under. Suddenly she drifted awake again, like a swimmer briefly breaking the surface of sleep.

"Oh my God Sam the sex is going to be so awesome!"

"Pervert!" Sam gasped as they both dissolved into breathless giggles, lips drifting across skin and hands skimming arms and backs till they both surrendered once again to sleep.

**End.**

**Notes:**

Thank you to everybody who read and commented and enjoyed this journey with me. I've loved being a part of this community. I've loved having the AU version of Sam and Mercy in my head all these weeks. Love and blessings to you all.


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